


strange what desire will make foolish people do

by arizayna



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Crossover, Gryffindor Niall, M/M, Ravenclaw Zayn, one direction - Freeform, ziall
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2018-08-07 13:05:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 29,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7715932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arizayna/pseuds/arizayna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“I know,” Niall exhales melodramatically, waits a second, then reaches out to tug at the lapels of Zayn’s blazer again. “But I’d been having such wicked thoughts about you in the library, I really couldn’t help myself.”</em>
</p>
<p>alternatively, niall is gryffindor's quidditch captain who's gotten into snape's bad books and zayn is the shy, clever ravenclaw who helps him with homework in exchange for certain favours</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zayniall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zayniall/gifts).



> Wellll, I thought I'd given up on writing fanfic but The Cursed Child came out recently and after reading it a lot of HP-induced feelings resurfaced so when I found this one lying in my drafts from ages ago I decided to finish the first chapter and see how it goes!

  1. Niall



 

_what a wicked game to play, to make me feel this way._

_what a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you._  

\--

 

At 7:45pm, the winter winds outside the stone windows of Hogwarts’ library are bitingly cold and the warmth of brandy that Niall had an hour ago is fading. He’s got two essays to be handed in tomorrow for Potions and Divination each, but he’s very tired and slightly drunk, and the words in his textbook are swimming together in front of his eyes.

“This is rubbish,” he mutters after a minute, slamming the heavy book shut. The force makes a tub of ink tremble on the side of the long table, and a few people at the other end look up in annoyance. “This is fucking _rubbish_ ,” he snaps to them, louder this time. They glare at him, but Madam Pince is aisles away, so she doesn’t hear.

Niall’s expected a more satisfying reaction from the others at the table, but they’re all disappointingly boring and just go back to burying their noses in their books. Niall rolls his eyes. _Ravenclaws_ , he figures, snorting. Studious little shits.

After a moment, though, he reconsiders, and decides to scan the group of students for a familiar face instead. Studious and shitty as they may be, they’re all still in the same house for a reason. _Someone_ should be able to help with all this work, he thinks. Not that Niall usually worries about his homework, but there _is_ a Quidditch match against Slytherin next week and he can’t afford to be dropped from the team at this point (Snape, of course, has explicitly threatened to suspend him from playing in any matches until he finishes all his undone essays).

Exasperated, he glances through the Ravenclaws sitting at the table, until finally, his eyes land on a smooth, tanned-skin boy.

“You,” he says. “Cute one with the lopsy hat. Look over here.”

The boy doesn’t look up, but Niall doesn’t miss the soft pink stains that immediately appear on his cheeks while he stares intensely at his book.

“Library closes in ten minutes,” Niall says, his voice lilting slightly, trying to inject some of his trademark charm into it despite feeling horribly close to exhaustion.  “Meet me outside when you’re finished, won’t you?”

The boy raises his his head to look up at Niall. He has dark amber eyes, flooded with a confused gold, but it’s a only quick instant later before he’s turning back to his book, scribbling furiously with a quill.

Niall doesn’t need to bother waiting for a reply, because he knows the boy will come. (They always do.) So he gathers up his things and smoothly makes his way out of the library, smiling at Madam Pince on the way out. She scowls back, sullenly reminding him about his overdue books.

Rolling his eyes, he slips past the door and pauses outside in the drafty halls. It’s colder in the castle than he can remember, and his jumper’s lying somewhere up in the Common Room. His friends are up there as well, probably drunk and having fun while he’s down here with his piles of work. _Fucking twats_. He’s tired too, muscles aching from hours of Quidditch practice out in the violent rain and cold, and he’d have completely forgotten about his essays if Liam hadn’t been his usual prudent self and reminded him.

By the time the golden-eyed boy quietly shows up beside the door, Niall’s gotten so cold that there are goosebumps rising along his arms. The skin there is still pale, despite hours and hours out in the sun. He thinks it’s some sort of genetic deficiency, but then again, he’s got plenty else to make up for his lack of a tan anyway.

“You took your time,” Niall says casually, glancing at the boy.

He stands at a safe distance away, like he’s afraid Niall’s going to punch him. “You said ten minutes.”

“Yeah, but I _meant_ five,” Niall rolls his eyes, turning to face him. “Well, what’s your name?”

His lopsided hat is tipping slowly off the edge of his head. “What does it matter to you?” he sounds vaguely suspicious, which Niall isn’t entirely pleased about.

Trying to make a friendly impression, Niall reaches out to touch the boy’s hat, but he flinches away. Niall’s not surprised, though, really – because this one doesn’t look the promiscuous type. “Just making a little conversation,” he smiles, “It’s just a thing I do - I’m a very amiable person, you see. So, your name?”

“It’s Zayn,” he says, staring back, then, before Niall can reply - “I know who _you_ are. People talk about you a lot.”

“All good things, I hope,” Niall grins, taking the chance to move a step closer to him.

Zayn narrows his eyes at the lithe movement. “What are you doing?”

“I’m _flirting_ with you, genius, because I think you’re very attractive,” Niall tells him, and the words don’t taste entirely like lies when he says them out loud. “You’ve got nice eyes and nice hair and very, very nice skin. I think I might fancy you a little, Zayn.”

The darker boy swallows, glancing around.

“Do _you_ fancy me?” Niall asks quietly, holding Zayn’s gaze.

“You’ve got a boyfriend,” Zayn blurts out suddenly. “I saw you kissing Devine yesterday, on the field.”

“Been watching me, have you?” Niall laughs, pleasantly surprised at this helpful turn.

“N-No, I just -”

“Josh isn’t my boyfriend,” Niall interrupts, charitably saving him the need to explain himself. “That was a dare.”

“You seem to be snogging lots of people on dares.”

“And you seem to know _quite_ a bit about me.”

Zayn’s blushing furiously all of a sudden. “I don’t. It’s - like I said. People talk about you, a lot. I overhear things.”

Niall pauses for a moment, looking into the burning amber eyes. They _are_ nice, and if Niall’s going to have to do this with any Ravenclaw, he’s sort of glad he picked this one. He shivers slightly as the wind nips at the back of his neck, reminding him of the cold. “Bit chilly, isn’t it?”

Zayn nods. “This isn’t the worst, though, I saw in the Daily Prophet that it’s just going to get colder and stormier over the next two weeks.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Niall sighs, and he means it. Bitter weather just means his team will be less likely to train hard, more likely to fall ill, and definitely more likely to have a few accidents that could affect their performance in the match. “Well, I’m quite sure I’ve frozen my toes by standing out here, so d’you feel like perhaps going somewhere a little more private, Zayn? Just the two of us, so we can get warmed up?”

“Oh, uh –“ Zayn’s eyes seem to widen slightly at the last sentence. “I - I should probably be heading back. It’s late – I have to – ”

“ _Now_?” Niall pouts, closing his fingers over Zayn’s arm with just the right amount of disappointment in his voice. “But I’ve only just got to know you! Don’t you think we should be friends?”

“But, I have, uh, this thing I need to do, my friends are probably waiting for me -”

“Let them wait a little longer, then,” Niall pulls him in with his arm, then softens his grip when he sees Zayn looking panicked. “Come _on_. Don’t you like me?”

“It’s not –“ Zayn flushes more, his tanned skin darkening. “I mean –“

“You’re always looking at me,” Niall says. He’s not certain that’s true, but it can’t hurt to try – he’s had a fair amount of admirers around the school and Zayn might just be one of them. “Aren’t you? Isn’t this the opportunity you’ve always wanted, to have some alone time with me?”

If Niall’s friends were here, they’d fall over laughing at what a bloody egomaniac he sounds like at the moment, but Zayn just mumbles, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Niall isn’t quite sure what he’s talking about either, but he tries to keep the ball rolling with pure guesswork. “I noticed how you were staring at me in the library, Zayn. You’re not that brilliant of a liar.”

“I wasn’t staring at you!”

“No?” Niall murmurs, leaning forward and toying with Zayn’s blazer lapels. He needs to speed things up, because he’s growing impatient, and the hallways are too cold for them to stay here much longer. “Are you sure about that? Because from what I could tell, you couldn’t keep your eyes off me tonight.”

“I - I glanced a couple of times!” Zayn insists, bright red now. “When - I, uh, I mean, you were making a scene, weren’t you?”

“Only because I wanted to get your attention,” he laughs lightly, tapping the other boy on the nose. “Oh - sorry. Am I coming off as a slut?”

Zayn shakes his head, biting his lip hard.

“Right, okay, that’s good, because I sort of feel like one at the moment,” Niall admits, lowering his voice salaciously and moving closer. “See, I don’t just think you’re attractive, Zayn. I kind of want to press you up against the wall and fuck you until you see stars.”

Zayn’s eyes widen, his blush going darker. “I think you’re _drunk_ -”

“To tell you the truth,” Niall whispers, leaning forward so that his lips are brushing Zayn’s ear softly. “I’d suck you off right here, at this very moment, if you let me.”

Zayn’s mouth opens and moves mutely. Niall uses the momentary stupefaction to lower his palm, grazing it over Zayn’s crotch, and he’s pleased to find it hardening just the slightest bit under his touch.

“A little privacy is overdue, don’t you think?” he says, then presses a gentle kiss into the side of Zayn’s ear.

Zayn stiffens, but his resolve is already starting to weaken. Niall dissolves it further by giving him a coaxing kiss on his jaw, moving slowly toward the heat of his mouth. Zayn, fortunately, seems too stunned to pull away.

A few slow, soft kisses later, Zayn gives in. His lips gingerly respond to Niall’s, in a guarded way that reveals he’s never actually kissed a boy before. Niall almost laughs at how easy this is turning out to be, but pulls back slightly after a moment to smile lazily at Zayn while he mentally assesses the proximity of every male washroom on the floor. Deciding that the one across the library is the most convenient and least likely to be intruded, he tugs on Zayn’s arm and pulls him across the stairway leading there.

Once they’re conveniently inside a locked cubicle, Niall brushes his hands off on his robes briskly. “Now, how are we going to do this?”

Zayn’s still flushed from the kissing, but he pales a little. “Do.. what, exactly?”

Niall has to suppress an eyeroll at that. “Have you done anything with a boy before, Zayn?”

Zayn cocks his head to the side, biting his lip.

When he doesn’t reply, Niall laughs. “Have you done anything with _anyone_ before?”

Zayn slowly shakes his head, cheeks pinking again.

“Jesus,” Niall says, wondering where to take this. “Well. You’ve used your hand, haven’t you? You _must_ have.”

“Yeah, but -”

“We can start there, then,” Niall interrupts him, lightly knocking Zayn back against the closed door. (He really hasn’t got all night - that homework needs to be done in time for Snape’s first lesson the next morning.)  “The beautiful thing about handjobs, Zayn, is that they are a million times better when someone else gives them to you. D’you want me to show you?”

The noise that leaves Zayn’s mouth in a quick, sharp exhale sounds like _yes_.

“You know, I can tell you’re sort of feisty,” Niall murmurs, as he busies himself with pulling open Zayn’s robes and letting them fall away carelessly. He also decides to unbutton Zayn’s white shirt, suggestively using his teeth to tug on the blue Ravenclaw tie. “Most of the quiet ones are. You just need a little _nudge_ -” he squeezes his palm against Zayn’s hardened crotch, “ - in the right direction.”

Zayn responds with a flustered sound.

“And my favourite part about corrupting lovely, innocent boys such as you,” Niall says, fingers digging in through the waistline of Zayn’s pants, sliding up against skin, “is seeing how bloody kinky the lot of you can really get when it comes to sex. One thing leads to another and soon you’ll be asking me to tie you up and whip you or something.”

“… that means, we’ll be doing this again, then?” Zayn’s eyes are getting glassy as he talks, fixed on Niall.

Niall laughs, lies, “well, we’ll see about that.”

The conversation stops momentarily there, as he turns his attention to curving his fingers around Zayn’s semi-aroused dick. It’s hot and heavy in his hand, already throbbing by the time he takes hold of it. Niall starts him off easy; slow, fluid paintbrush strokes that make Zayn shudder a little and flatten back against the wall.

“See what I mean?” Niall asks, grinning at Zayn. “Better than whacking off on your own, isn’t it?”

“I - _ah_ ,” Zayn breathes, legs hitching a little. His body is flushed, capillaries afire under the bronze skin, and his lopsy hat is dangerously close to falling right off his head. “ _Yes._ ”

“Swearing usually helps,” Niall advises, grazing his thumb hard over the head of Zayn’s cock with every stroke, issuing a loud whine from the other boy. “Profanities are by far the most articulate way of describing how you feel during this sort of thing.”

“Ah, _fuck,_ ” Zayn groans. “ _Fuck_ , this is so -”

Hearing those guttural cuss coming out of this stammering, stumbling Ravenclaw’s mouth tug sharply on a muscle in Niall’s abdomen, his own dick twitching slightly. There’s something so - _something,_ about hearing this quiet boy from the library with his silly hat getting so helplessly flushed and _swearing_ for him. He decides to reward Zayn’s misbehaviour by quickening his strokes slightly, feeling the friction burn his palm as Zayn lets out an uncontrollable moan again and throws his head back against the door.

It only takes a few more seconds for him to come, dewy white spilling over Niall’s fingers when he lets go.

Niall laughs, watches as Zayn swallows a hard lump in his throat and tries to catch his breath again. By the time some of the colour is returning to Zayn’s flaming cheeks, Niall’s already heading for the door, reaching out toward the handle.

“ _Wait_ ,” Zayn says, and Niall almost smiles as he stops slowly. “That’s it?”

“Should there be something more?” this time, Niall’s smirk is involuntary.

“Aren’t I supposed to - return the favour? Or something?”

Niall lets out a loud dramatic sigh, letting his lower lip jut out a little. He turns exasperatedly to Zayn, shrugging his shoulders. “As _attractive_ as you are, and as _much_ as I would like for you to get me off, Zayn, I just happen to have a shitload of homework that I desperately need to do by tomorrow. I really have no time for this.”

“…What homework?” Zayn asks, tilting his head a little. The hat dangles off the side clumsily as he starts pulling his robe back on.

Niall nearly whoops out loud, but fights to maintain his composure nonchalantly. “Nothing too difficult. Two essays, one for Potions and one for Divination. Have to learn to perform a successful Bird Conjuring Charm for Transfiguration and also read and summarise two chapters for Muggle Studies.”

“Merlin’s beard,” Zayn says, exhaling slowly, almost impressed. “How were you planning to do all that in one night?”  
  
Niall lets out a long, tragic breath. “Snape threatened to have me dropped from the Quidditch team all semester if I don’t finish my pending work.”

“Niall - we shouldn’t have done this,” Zayn says suddenly, sounding slightly alarmed. “You need to be working. I don’t – I don’t want to be the reason you’re dropped from the team!”

“I know,” Niall exhales melodramatically, waits a second, then reaches out to tug at the lapels of Zayn’s blazer again. “But I’d been having such _wicked_ thoughts about you in the library, I really couldn’t help myself.”

Zayn’s face heats up when Niall’s thumb grazes his jaw. “You, uh – you know, I haven’t got any work left for tonight,” his sentences are starting to jumble together again, but Niall clings desperately to every word. “If, if you, uh – I mean, I could help? I’m saying, that’s a lot of homework and I think you could get more, uh, more done if I helped? I’m not saying you _need_ help, it’s just –"

Niall says, “ _Zayn_ ,” and shoves himself forward, catching the other boy’s mouth in a hard, hungry kiss.

When he pulls back, Zayn’s cheeks are a little pathetically rouged. “And it, it gives us more time for _this._ ”

“Zayn, you are a genius,” Niall exclaims grandly, as if this hasn’t been the plan all along. “Come here and snog me, you brilliant child.”

 

\--

 

 

Snape’s lips are tightly pursed as Niall hands in his essay first thing the next morning.

“I would wipe that smug look off your face if I were you, Horan,” he says coldly. “If your essay isn’t up to the expected standard, I do warn you that –“

“I’m sure you’ll find my essay will exceed your expectations, Professor,” Niall interrupts, flashing his teeth in a wide, satisfied smile. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go and have my breakfast.”

Snape begrudgingly releases him, and Niall does a merry walk toward the Great Hall. He’s been enjoying a sense of pleasantness since his little adventure with the Ravenclaw boy last night, now heightened by the absolute delight of throwing his done homework in Snape’s face. Once at the Hall, he does a quick scan of the Gryffindor table and locates where his group of friends are seated, briskly moving toward them and sitting down.

“How bad was it?” Liam asks, not even looking up from his toast. “Harry and I have been arguing over exactly how many weeknights you’re going to be spending in detention with Snape this semester.”

“None,” Niall grins, reaching for a croissant. “I handed it in. The essay.”

“You do know there’s an anti-plagiarism charm that Snape uses whenever he marks our work,” Harry raises his eyebrows, green eyes twinkling.

Niall nods. “Don’t have to worry about that. Handed in a completely original piece of work.”

“Is that where you were last night?” Harry asks suspiciously. “I didn’t think you were being serious when you said you’d be in the library doing your essay no matter how long it took.”

Niall opens his mouth to answer, but he’s interrupted when Liam nudges his shoulder. “You’ve got yourself an admirer, Niall,” he says. “See that boy there, at the Ravenclaw table? He’s positively _ogling_ at you.”

“What, more than everyone usually does?” Niall smirks.

“If you would let some air out of that _inflated_ head of yours,” Liam smacks him, “you’d know that you’re really not as popular as you think you are.”

“I really _am_ , though,” Niall turns to look at the Ravenclaw table Liam pointed at, already knowing it’s going to be Zayn, and smiles again. “This one’s the newest member of my fanclub. Can’t blame him, one night with me hardly ever seems to be enough for anyone.”

“Niall James Horan,” Harry says suddenly, sitting up straight, “you manipulative, _evil_ slut. Did you exploit that poor boy and make him do your homework for you?”

“I _pleasured_ him, for which he offered to return the favour by completing my essays.”

“You _used_ him!” Liam gasps. “He’s not even your type!”

 “I don’t like the connotations of that word,” Niall says defensively.

“Niall, even you have to know that something like that is just unfair,” Liam sounds stern now, and Niall doesn’t appreciate the patronizing tone of his voice. “I’ve never had an issue with your – activities, but using them to get your homework done is just –“

“It was a one-time thing, and I was desperate,” Niall insists, looking across the Hall. For a moment, his eyes connect with Zayn’s, who quickly blushes and drops his gaze. “We have a match with Slytherin and I will _not_ let Snape drop me from the team now. Stop fucking chiding me, it’s not going to happen again, alright?”

“Oh, bless his innocent Ravenclaw soul,” Harry sighs dramatically at that, finishing his breakfast. “He has no idea what he’s let you get him into.”

\--

An hour after a brilliantly triumphant win against the Slytherin team, Niall strolls out of the boys’ changing room – buzzing, both because of the look on the Slytherin captain’s face as they won and because Josh had sucked him off almost deliciously in the showers after the game.

He ponders for a moment where his current relationship with Josh stands. Everyone assumes they’re dating, which they may as well be, but Niall is more than a little suspicious that Josh has been sleeping around nearly as much as he has. Still, at this point it seems relatively common knowledge amongst the other students that Josh is his, well, _boyfriend_. Admittedly Niall does happen to fuck Josh more passionately and frequently than he does anyone else, so he supposes he won’t have much of a problem with the label.

In a way, Niall’s sixth year at Hogwarts has happened to be his grandest, most rewarding one yet. In just a couple of months he’s been elevated to captain of the Gryffindor team, maintained a smooth sailing and popular reputation, and apparently now he’s in a relationship with Josh Devine too – Hogwart’s most attractive prefect. It’s almost too good to be true, really.

As he’s nearing the Gryffindor Common Room he spots a familiar lopsided hat, worn by a slim boy in blue-trimmed Ravenclaw robes. Raising his eyebrows, Niall attempts to briskly walk past him.

“Niall!” Zayn says, sounding a little overexcited. “Niall, it’s me.”

Niall turns to him, feigning surprise. “Oh, hello. I didn’t see you there, uh, Zack?”

“Zayn,” he’s breathless. “I’ve just been sort of waiting for you here. I didn’t know when you would show up. Um, I wanted to congratulate you on the game – you were brilliant, really.”

Niall is trying not to smirk but his lips betray him. “Thank you. It was nothing, piece of cake.” (It had actually taken him weeks and weeks of Quidditch drills in the agonizingly cold and rainy nights to perfect his strategies and techniques, as well as maximize the efficiency and talent of the rest of his team – no one said being captain was easy.) “Well, if that’s all – I’m really quite exhausted, you see –“

Zayn is bright-eyed, but stumbles over his words. “I just – what we did the other night, I can’t stop thinking about it, and I don’t, you know, I’ve never done that before. Ever. And with you, it felt right, you know? I mean, I know we didn’t do the whole thing, but, um. It was nice, what we did.”

Niall almost laughs. “We didn’t even fuck, Zayn.”

“I – I know,” Zayn says, cheeks immediately flushing to a vibrant red. “No, that’s not what I meant – it’s just. Um. There’s a lot of word going around and people talking about, you know, you. With Josh Devine. And I just came to, well, ask. If it’s true, what they’re saying.”

“Is what true?” Niall’s eyebrow arches impatiently. “That I’m sleeping with him?”

“That you’re dating him.”

Niall is slightly taken aback by the statement. He’d assumed that Zayn had come back to beg for more, a matter easily resolved because Niall is sufficiently well-versed in the art of breaking hearts. But this? “Well, why does it matter to you?”

“Is that a yes?” Zayn questions.

Niall squints at him curiously. “I suppose so, yes. I have been spending an atrocious amount of time alone with him lately.”

“Oh,” Zayn sounds just the slightest bit deflated, but he manages a watery smile. “I just thought – never mind, it doesn’t matter now. I’ll let you get your rest, you must be quite tired.”

“Why, what did you think?” Niall stares hard at the pretty, golden-eyed Ravenclaw boy in front of him. Small, shy, still slightly blushing.

“Nothing,” Zayn says after a moment. “Never mind.”

Niall lets out a short, disbelieving snort.

“Goodnight, and congratulations again on winning,” Zayn steps back, adjusting his lopsided hat only to have it slide off to the side of his head again. “You really were brilliant tonight.”

Niall watches him leave, feeling a little dampened that he hadn’t gotten the pleasure of Zayn admitting his desires. He’s not used to _not_ getting the attention he wants, and even if he has no plans to recreate their adventure from last week, he probably would’ve got off on Zayn gushing to him about how much he wants to do it all again because Niall’s so irresistibly good. Niall shakes it off and enters the Common Room, deciding this is probably better anyway. Now that he apparently has a boyfriend, it would be unwise to be constantly followed around and pestered by someone like Zayn – or worse, word could get out about how he’d given a Ravenclaw a handjob in exchange for getting his homework done for him, and he’s not too sure how the other students will react to that.

And so he decides to just sleep it off and let it be. He’s pleasantly surprised to find Josh waiting in his bed as he arrives, shirtless and sinewy body almost glowing bluish under the moonlight. He puts a finger to his lips and gives Niall a smile wicked enough to stir something in his lower abdomen – then points to the other students who are already asleep in their own beds.

“Not planning to wake my roommates up, are you, Josh?” Niall grins as he climbs into bed, straddling his new boyfriend and hooking his hands onto the skin of Josh’s chest.

Josh gently eases two fingers into Niall’s mouth, letting him suck on them lightly. “Only as long as you’re not planning to letting me walk straight tomorrow.”

“We’ll see about that,” Niall kisses Josh’s fingers, and then leans down for his chest and neck. He’s hard already, though, just from _looking_ at that glorious body waiting for him in bed, and Josh can tell. “What’ve you got your shirt off for, anyway? It’s freezing.”

“Well, warm me up,” Josh’s hands are tugging against Niall’s hair, as he starts to groan quietly. “You love to get me all hot and bothered, don’t you?”

“That, I do,” Niall laughs, glances around the room of sleeping students, thinks _fuck it,_ and leans down to kiss Josh again.

\--

As the winds howl around the dark, glistening pitch and the sheets of freezing rain hammer down brutally on them, the Gryffindor Quidditch team huddles into a small circle beside the bleachers. Niall is drenched from head to toe, his hair clinging to his forehead, the uniform soaked icy against his skin, his body heavy with fatigue and shivering for warmth. Even his teeth are chattering feverishly, but his face is too numb to feel it. His Starsweeper XXI is resting beside his ankles, the rain frozen around the handle and seeping into the firm brushes.

"Right," he says, addressing his team stoicly, making a concerted effort to stand up straight and puff out his chest. "We'll do two more drills each to polish up, and then -"

He's interrupted almost at once by a collective groan from all the other players.

"Don't you fucking dare, Niall," Josh is juggling his body weight between both legs, rubbing his arms vigorously to preserve heat. "You are _not_ going to make me train while my veins freeze inside me.”

"Stop exaggerating," Niall snaps, rolling his eyes. "It’s just a little drizzle. You're our Seeker, for fuck's sake, and you need to work on changing your catch-hand, we have another game in two weeks. Just two drills, and then I promise you can all go inside where it's nice and warm -"

"Do you want us falling off our broomsticks?" Josh roars. "I'd be hitting you, if I could _see_ through all this damn rain."

 There's a murmur of assent rising from the team.

"C'mon, Niall," Serena Goodhead pleads, "if you make us stay out here for another hour we'll be in the Hospital Wing with hypothermia by the time the match comes round. And then Ravenclaw will win, and then none of us will be able to show our faces in public ever again."

Niall surveys the other players testily, all soaked and shivering and exhausted as he is. They've been outside for three hours, training against wind and rain and ice. He doesn't think they've ever worked so hard before. Inside the castle, it's probably warm and cosy and Niall will be damned if there is anything in the world that he wants more right now than a blanket and a hot chocolate beside the fireplace.

"Alright," he says after a moment, giving in. "But Tuesday night we practice again, there are a couple more drills I want to get through with before next week. _No exceptions_."

The team nods and slowly disperses. As the other players stream out, grumbling about the weather, Josh stays behind to help Niall pack up. They struggle with the Bludgers for a moment, wrestling to strap them down into the crate, but following a short pause Josh says, "Sorry I yelled at you. You know I didn't mean it."

"Course not, you crybaby," Niall snorts, shutting the trunk and looking. "Let's get inside. I'm freezing."

Josh links his arm through Niall's, grinning. “You look like you could use a nice hot shower.”

“How can you even think about sex after all that practice we’ve just done,” Niall rolls his eyes as they start walking towards the changing room. “Obviously I’m not training you hard enough. Your muscles should be fucking _aching_ after all that.”

“They’ll ache well enough when I’m through with you,” Josh’s hand makes a swift grab for Niall’s arse, squeezing lightly.

“And I really thought I was the bigger slut here,” Niall shakes his head, laughing. Once they’re inside, the boys start stripping down out of their soaked clothes, kicking off the wet socks and heading for the showers.

“Come on,” Josh coaxes, pressing Niall against the shower wall. “You’re so sexy when you’re out there on the field. It always turns me on, just watching how good you are at everything.”

“Really, Josh, thanks, but I’m far too tired for this,” Niall wriggles away. “I just need to take it easy for a bit, and you should too. I think we were really close to overtraining out there tonight. We need rest.”

“I’ll give you a blowjob, that’ll relax you.”

“No, I’m – Josh, I’m really not in the mood, okay?” Niall’s starting to get a little irritated now, raising his voice as he pushes Josh off him. “Just not tonight. I’m too tired.”

“When did you start saying no to me?” Josh steps back, scowling. “Anyone in this entire school would die for a chance to shag me – and you say _no_?”

“There’s a time for everything, you idiot,” Niall says. “I’d gladly fuck you any other time, but right now it’s important we keep ourselves well-rested, okay? We have a game coming up and I can’t risk you, me, or anyone else in our team not being at their very best.”

“But I haven’t – we haven’t fucked in two days, Niall,” Josh exaggeratedly gestures toward his erection. “Don’t you miss it?”

Niall rolls his eyes and doesn’t even bother replying, turning away from Josh and starting the shower. This clearly irritates his boyfriend, who goes into the next cubicle, takes a speedy shower, and then storms off without another word.

\--

“Very impressive, Horan,” Snape says curtly as he returns the essay back to him the next week. “Perhaps you’re not a lost cause after all.”

“That makes me feel really good about myself, Professor, thanks,” Niall says, and he hears Harry and Liam snickering from the back of the office. “Well, if that’s all –“

“Not. So. Fast,” Snape pins Niall’s arm suddenly down on to the table, preventing him from moving away. His beady eyes are glittering with a dark suspicion. “Now that you’ve gained such a sudden aptitude for Potions I expect you will have no trouble continuing your efforts.”  
  
“Professor?” Niall asks, confused.

“Three essays, on the properties and uses of Dittany, Asphodel, and Wiggentree bark respectively,” Snape gives him a hollow, mirthless smile. “You have two days. If it’s not in on my desk bright and early on Wednesday morning, you can consider yourself cut from the Quidditch team until you finally learn to prioritize your education above games.”

“That’s not fair!” Niall wails loudly. “I can’t write three essays in two days!”  
  
“Well, I suggest you learn how to then, fairly quickly,” Snape’s lip curls. “Now stop with that insufferable whining before I take twenty points from Gryffindor.”

Niall makes a point to stomp, enraged, out of the classroom. He’s so angry he nearly knocks his friends over as he strides past them. “Three bloody essays, who the fuck does he think he is?” he’s snarling at no one in particular. “As if Potions is my only subject – as if I’ve got the _time_ to dedicate my entire life to –“

“He’s just trying to break you, you know,” Liam suggests, struggling to keep up with Niall’s furious pace. “He probably knows you didn’t do that last essay on your own and he needs a way to prove you can’t have done it alone.”

“Well, he’s not going to _bloody_ prove anything,” Niall snaps. “Not if I can fucking help it.”

“I don’t want to sound like I’m, you know, making anything worse,” Harry adds on, a little nervous. “But I hope you’re not going to – um, do what you did last time.”

“What, ask a Ravenclaw to help?”

“ _Use_ a Ravenclaw to help,” Harry says sheepishly. “It’s just going to make Snape angrier and you have the whole Josh thing now anyway –“

“Well, I wasn’t planning on it,” Niall says coldly. “I’ll show Snape I can do it myself. I’m not as fucking _useless_ as he seems to think I am.”

\--

It turns out, two nights later, that Niall is actually as useless as Snape thinks he is, because forty-eight hours after being set with three essays Niall still hasn’t done any of them and he’s starting to panic a little now.

It’s not his fault he’s been infuriatingly busy the last two days, spending the majority of both nights out on the field, training his team mercilessly in preparation for the next match – not his goddamn fault that Gryffindor just happens to be booked on the pitch from Monday to Wednesday so that Ravenclaw can practice on it from Thursday to Saturday. What’s he supposed to do, anyway? Him and the Ravenclaw captain nearly bit each other’s heads off fighting over who gets to use the pitch, and he’s not going to waste the precious three nights that he’s managed to reserve it for.

And yet, after an exhausting training session and somehow the even more taxing effort of staving off Josh’s seductive advances, Niall is left helplessly staring at the empty pieces of parchment in front of him. He doesn’t even know where his Potions book is, and he definitely doesn’t have a clue about what Dittany, Asphodel or Wiggentree Bark is used for. It seems like some kind of sadistic cosmic prank – training so hard for Quidditch just to be dropped from the team because he can’t write an _essay_.

Giving the parchments an exasperated shove off the table, Niall leans back and weighs his options. It seems impossible to finish off three essays all by himself in one night, especially after being worn to the bone by the training session. Liam and Harry aren’t likely to be of any help – like most of the other Gryffindors they’re already in bed. Neither is Josh, who threw a tantrum after Niall turned down his offer for a quickie in the prefect’s bathroom, and is probably off fucking some other willing party at the moment. The only idea that seems to make sense is going to Zayn and asking him to help for old time’s sake.

So fifteen minutes later, Niall finds himself waiting jumpily outside the library. Zayn’s a Ravenclaw, a downright stereotypical one at that, so it’s unlikely that he’ll be anywhere else on a weeknight. Niall paces around outside, trying to ignore the anxious flames licking inside his stomach. Half an hour passes, and Niall’s just about to give up when _finally_ a trio of Ravenclaws step out of the library, with a lopsided hat in the middle.

“ _Zayn_!” Niall hates that he sounds so desperate, but he’s been weakened by the cruel combination of exhaustion and anxiety and can’t seem to quite pull off his usual winning smile. “Zayn, I really need to talk to you.”

Zayn stops, turning around and blushing almost instantly when he sees Niall. The other two Ravenclaws are staring curiously, wondering what on earth Hogwart’s most popular student might want with their friend. Zayn hurriedly shoos them off, but they turn their heads to look back even as they’re scrambling away.

“What’s the matter?” Zayn tilts his head at the way Niall’s probably a little paler than normal.

“I don’t suppose you want to join me in the bathroom again?” Niall’s trying his absolute hardest to sound sexy and playful, but his words are coming out faster and louder than normal. “I can’t stop thinking about you either, you know. Drives me a little mad.”

Zayn’s eyebrows are furrowing slowly, confused. “But I thought –“

“Never mind what you thought,” Niall’s voice is starting to sound shrill. “Come on now, bathroom, I’m just dying to tear your robes off and get my hands on you.”

Zayn’s cheeks are pink, but he steps back as Niall moves toward him. “Are you quite alright? You look a little unwell.”

“I’m fine,” Niall snaps, “I don’t have time to reason with you, Zayn, I know you’re gagging for it too so just, please, come with me.”

“What about Josh?” Zayn asks, his amber gaze fixed questioningly on Niall.

“Forget about Josh,” Niall knows he’s getting more nervous with every second that ticks by, but his mind doesn’t seem to be functioning at its usual capacity anymore. His stomach is crawling with the thought of being kicked off the Quidditch team, wasting a whole semester’s worth of hard work. Snape’s empty smile is consistently reappearing in his memory, scornful. “Look, Josh and I had an argument – that’s not important right now. But if you don’t come with me to the bathrooms, I will get down onto my knees and choke myself to death on your dick right here.”

Zayn doesn’t seem convinced, and appears to be more concerned that Niall’s so stressed than flattered by his advances. “What did you argue about?”

“For _fuck’s_ sake, Zayn!” Niall frustratedly pushes (shoves, actually) Zayn against the wall and holds him there a little manically. “Just let me – let me make you feel good – “

“Niall, _stop_ ,” Zayn’s voice suddenly sounds more concrete than expected, his hands forcefully fending off Niall’s own, which were frantically attempting to undo his robes. “Stop it, please.”

Niall stops and steps back, realizing what he must be coming across as. “Fuck. I’m sorry – I didn’t mean that – oh, for fuck’s sake, I’m making a fucking fool out of myself.”

Zayn smoothens out the creases on his robes before looking back up at Niall, eyebrows raised in worry. “What’s the matter? Why are you acting like that?”

Niall pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a prolonged exhale. “I – I need your help, Zayn.”

“With what?”

“Remember that Potions essay you wrote for me last time?” Niall says, deciding to drop the tact and come straight out with it. “Snape was suspicious when he marked it because it’s better than what I usually hand in, and now he’s set three more for me to write, and I had two days to do it but I couldn’t because of Quidditch practice, but if I don’t hand them in tomorrow morning I _know_ he’s going to get me dropped from the Gryffindor team, and I haven’t got a clue where to start and I really, really cannot afford to be taken off the team now because we’ve just beat Slytherin and we need to beat Ravenclaw to get into the lead, but if I’m not on the team they won’t be able to do it, and I thought the only way to convince you to help me was if I could get you in bed –“ he stops suddenly, realizing his voice has been rising quite a few decibels as he spoke. “What I’m saying is, I really need your help with the essays.”

To his shock and slight horror, Zayn is actually _laughing_.

“This is not a fucking _joke_ -“

“No, I know, sorry,” Zayn stifles his chuckles quickly, but his golden eyes are still bright and blazing with some small inner firelight. “It’s just – you could’ve just _asked_ if you needed help with your homework, Niall. I wouldn’t have said no.”

Niall suddenly feels remarkably stupid for it not having occurred to him that he should have asked Zayn for help instead of embarrassingly himself the way he did. “I didn’t know that,” he huffs, suddenly annoyed that Zayn is finding this so amusing.

“I – I helped you last time, didn’t I?”

“In exchange for a handjob,” Niall snaps impatiently.

Zayn is blushing again, his exaggeratedly pretty features lit dimly by a nearby lamp. “It wasn’t a _trade_ , you know. I mean, maybe a little, but really I just wanted to spend more time with – with you.”

Despite feeling thoroughly humiliated, a small winged flutter of hope is awakening in Niall’s chest. “So you’ll help me, then? With the essays?”

“Of course,” Zayn smiles, his eyes kind. “I’m meant to be revising Potions this week anyways – come on, there’s an empty classroom we can use over here.”

Niall feels like an obedient puppy as he follows Zayn into the classroom, watching him unpack his bookbag and spread out some parchments onto the table. Then he takes a seat beside him and quietly observes as the dark-haired Ravenclaw gets to work. While Zayn scribbles with his quill, eyes sliding from Potions textbook to parchment, Niall works out a strategy for the next Quidditch match in his head, mentally reminding himself of the Ravenclaw team’s previously noted strengths and weaknesses and trying to formulate the most effective plan to defeat them. This keeps him occupied for a good two hours, after which he notices Zayn yawn and rub his eyes as he puts the second parchment away.

“What time is it?” Zayn asks sleepily.

“An hour past midnight,” Niall says, reading from the clock on the wall. “Have you done them all?”

“Got one left,” Zayn’s folding the parchments away. “But I don’t think I’ll do it tonight. I need a few hours of sleep first, and I’ll get up early to finish the last one for you. I can give it to you at breakfast tomorrow if I see you in the Great Hall.”

“That would be brilliant, thanks,” Niall collects the two essays that Zayn’s already done and puts them safely in the pocket. “You’re incredible, you really are.”

Zayn’s cheeks stain themselves scarlet again. “Oh, it was nothing. No need to thank me.”

“I mean, I _can_ think of a way to repay you, if you’d let me,” Niall says, realizing that he feels a little guilty about making Zayn do so much work without getting anything in return. Three essays deserve a blowjob, at _least_. “Would you like that? Would you like me to give you a special thank-you present?”

“You don’t – I mean, you don’t have to,” Zayn’s breathlessly floundering again all of a sudden, the cool composure he’d had while doing work melting away. “It’s – I –“

“Oh, I absolutely insist,” Niall’s hand slides up Zayn’s thigh and rests at his hip, fingers tracing lightly over the fabric of his robes, earning a small shiver. “Just so you know how much I appreciate you doing this for me.”

Zayn’s eyes are on Niall’s hands, watching him play with the strings on his uniform. “What about – what about Josh?”  
  
“We argued, I told you,” Niall hums absentmindedly, undoing the robes with a swift, easy movement. It falls away to release the heated bronze skin underneath, and Zayn bites his lip as the edge of Niall’s nails scratch lightly on his thigh.

“You’re not with him anymore?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Niall says, pushing the table in front of them away and getting down onto his knees on the floor between Zayn’s legs. Zayn’s got an unmistakable boner already, his shoulders squaring when Niall does away with his underwear.

But then, surprisingly, Zayn’s hand is on Niall’s shoulder, pushing him back a little. “Niall,” he says, “I can’t – I won’t let you do this if, you know, you’re still with – with Josh –“

“I’m not with Josh anymore,” Niall lies, eager to get the deed over with and go to sleep, getting some well-deserved rest after a painfully long day. “Now relax, will you?”

Zayn does relax, but only for a moment, because then Niall’s mouth is on his cock, wet and soft and slick, and Zayn’s whole body hitches again, muscles tensing and releasing repeatedly. He leans back, gripping the edge of the bench with both his hands and letting out helpless, hushed noises as Niall’s tongue grazes the head, one fist closed around the shaft and firmly sliding up and down.

“I haven’t even started the fun part yet,” Niall laughs as he pulls back for a moment to look up at Zayn’s heaving chest and glazed eyes.

He bends back down and this time takes as much of Zayn’s dick into his mouth as he can, sucking almost violently and issuing several _much_ louder whines from the darker boy, whose hands are shifting, almost unnoticed, from the bench to Niall’s hair, becoming ensnared and then starting to tug. Niall’s mouth is slurping unabashedly, and he looks up to meet Zayn’s misty gaze as he pumps up and down the shaft with his hand again.

Zayn’s fingers tighten in Niall’s hair, fingers almost digging into the flesh on his scalp, his moaning starting to become more fragmented, more breathless and “ _fuck, fuck, Niall,”_ as his hips begin rocking forward, slightly out of rhythm at first and then falling into a continuous, hazy pace. Niall notices Zayn’s legs have wrapped around his back, and he’s _fucking_ into his mouth unapologetically, panting out vocal profanities and moaning Niall’s name at the same time. Once again, this – this out-of-character misbehavior, this primal rawness that overtakes Zayn’s normally quiet, normally shy self – Niall can’t decide what it is, but his own cock is suddenly achingly hard, throbbing under his robes. His free hand is resting on Zayn’s hipbones, feeling the movement under the skin as he thrusts, but now Niall slides it down and palms himself under the robes, listening to Zayn’s shudders and moans as he strokes half-desperately.

Within a minute, Zayn’s fingers give a final, gasping yank on Niall’s head as he comes, his dick pulsing and hot, sticky come gushing onto Niall’s tongue. His legs relax and unwrap from Niall’s back and he slowly releases his hair, biting his lip with all the colour drained from his face.

“Oh, _wow_ ,” he’s staring, wide-eyed and in awe at Niall. “ _Wow,_ I –“

Niall grins, getting back onto his feet and helping Zayn stand with shaking legs. “A man’s first blowjob is always the most memorable one.”

“ _Memorable_ ,” Zayn repeats, and he sounds wildly dazed. “That was – that was definitely memorable, I didn’t even – I mean, I had no idea, I’d heard that it felt good but _that_ was, wow, that was something else, you know, Niall. Do you – I’d be happy to do it for you, if you would just, um, tell me what to do, I’d –“

“Mmm, that’s okay, Zayn,” Niall hums, straightening his robes to conceal the bulge underneath. “I’m glad you enjoyed it, but I’m more tired than you can possibly believe, so I’ll just be heading back to my dorm now. I’ll see you at breakfast to get that last essay.”

“Yes, of course,” Zayn nods eagerly, his hat falling off his head. “Tomorrow, at breakfast.”

“Alright, thanks then, Zayn,” Niall accompanies him until they reach the large stone stairs, where they’re meant to split ways. “Goodnight.”

Zayn’s blushing again, obviously still reeling from the blowjob, and runs off happily toward the Ravenclaw Common Room.

Niall, much calmer now that he’s got the essays crisis settled, makes his way toward the Gryffindor dormitory, and finds to his dismay as he climbs into bed that he’s still fucking hard. Grumbling slightly at the inconvenience of his well-anticipated sleep being delayed for another few minutes, he slips his hand down into his boxers and starts to jerk. It’s only after he’s finished, panting slightly and finally sinking back against the pillows to sleep, that he realises that it wasn’t Josh’s lean body he had been thinking of, but Zayn’s repeated, heated moaning instead.

\--


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Well, if I’d gotten both a handjob and a blowjob from someone infinitely more popular and remarkable than myself, I’d consider that particular individual my hero too,” Niall says, grinning. “In fact, I think I’d probably worship them. Doing their homework seems like such a small price to pay for all the great sex I get to enjoy in return. And he’s a Ravenclaw too, right, so writing essays is probably some type of weird foreplay for him anyway.”_

\--

Liam gives Niall a dirty look the following morning when he sees him collect the essay from Zayn, but all Niall feels is a giddy sense of relief washing like cool freshwater over him as he sprints to Snape’s office in the dungeons to deliver the rolled-up parchments. The office is dimly lit and appears a ghostly sepia colour as Niall walks in through the open door, announcing that he’s brought his essays.

Snape takes them in, placing them delicately at the edge of his desk before turning back to look at Niall with a scrutinizing gaze, eyes cold and smooth as the surface of a polished black opal. “How prepared are you feeling for next Monday’s match with Ravenclaw, Mr Horan?”

“Very,” Niall says, but his teeth are gritted together, “ _professor_.”

“I imagine training your team on the pitch till nightfall the last two days has left you feeling quite confident,” Snape’s cool, depthless stare is starting to grow unnerving. “Professor McGonagall tells me you spend quite a large amount of time practicing Quidditch these days.”

“She’s right, sir.”

“So explain to me, Mr Horan,” Snape says, his voice slowly turning into a thick black ice, “Exactly how it is that you have found the time, between your training and your lessons, to complete three whole essays within a mere two days.”

“Were you not expecting me to do it, Professor?” Niall asks, innocently.

“I expected nothing less than your blithering arrogance allowing you to undertake tasks that are you are, no doubt, incapable of,” Snape’s speaking quiet but his words come out quick, like venom. “Do you take me to be such an incompetent fool, Horan, that you thought I would not question the integrity behind the recent essays you’ve been submitting to me?”

“No, sir,” Niall is trying to sound brave, but it’s hard under the vitriol in Snape’s tone.

“No?” Snape repeats, still glaring. “Don’t you dare forget, boy, that I did you a kind favour by allowing you to participate in my class after you barely scraped an Acceptable grade in your Potions O.W.L last year. Is this the sort of mockery that I get in return?”

“Professor, I don’t know what you’re _talking_ about,” Niall whines, but the second he starts speaking his sentences already sound like lies, “I barely slept last night because I was so busy doing the essays you set me. I may not be brilliant at time management, but I do know the importance of completing my work, even if it means having to stay up all night to do it, I swear.”

Snape surveys him through a frosty stone hard stare and seems stingingly unimpressed.

“Professor, I _swear_ –“

“If you _insist_ on lying to me, Mr Horan, I am left with no choice but to set you more work. I believe that the truth will come out eventually, and until then, you can continue to complete the extra homework I set you as a means of punishment for your dishonesty.”

“But Professor Snape, I’m _not_ being dishonest –“

“I want three more essays; one assessing the universal validity of Golpalott’s Third Law, one on the properties of Alihotsy, and one explaining in deep detail what a Volubilis Potion is used for,” the poison in Snape’s voice seems to have dissolved away as suddenly as it flared up, and he’s now speaking with his usual cold, impassive tone. “You have until Friday evening.”

“ _What_? But – but that’s not fair!” Niall yelp is involuntary, he feels like he’s just been dealt a cruel blow to the stomach. “You can’t expect me to – Professor Snape, I’ve barely got any time left on my hands – we haven’t even learned those things in _class_ –“

“Perhaps it’ll do you good to remember that the next time that you attempt to make me look like an ignoramus _idiot_ ,” Snape says icily. “And believe me, Horan, if I find the slightest evidence of slack in your work, I will have you removed from your precious Quidditch team before you can even think to come up with another pathetic, ridiculous excuse for your attitude.”

Niall’s stomach feels uncomfortably like a cauldron that’s filled with despair, frustration and horror. “Professor Snape, _please_ –“

“Fifteen points from Gryffindor, for your compulsive lying,” Snape spins around suddenly, turning his back to Niall as he shoves the essays into a cupboard lining the moldy wall in the back of the room. “And if you are not out of my office by the time that I turn back around, I’ll take another five.”

\--

Despite the sky being blissfully clear and starry that night, Niall finds himself hiding away in the Gryffindor Tower, sitting on an armchair near the fireplace with his knees drawn up to his chest while the rest of his Quidditch team makes the most of the weather by practicing out on the pitch. Truth be told, he _does_ feel bad that he’s not attending training considering that this is the last night that the Gryffindor team has reserved the pitch before the next match – but given the nasty circumstances with Snape, Niall feels he’s better off wallowing in self-pity up here than half-heartedly trying to get through the practice drills outside. Even if he’s never voluntarily missed a training session before, he allows himself to assume that Josh will be able to take over his role fairly well tonight.

The Common Room is gratifyingly warm, a fire blazing in the hearth and casting shifting golden light over flowing crimson tapestries on the walls. Other students laze around in various locations within the cul-de-sac room; some reading, others playing bewitched versions of Muggle card games, a few fourth-year girls are huddled in the corner and giggling as they stare and blush at Niall. Normally, he would’ve found this overall environment pleasant, but the acute sense of discomfort and hopelessness he’s been feeling since the encounter with Snape this morning is preventing him from fully appreciating it.

Earlier, he’d attempted to get started on the work Snape that set him, but quickly found out that it was definitely too advanced for him to try to learn on his own. Snape seemed to think it prudent to give him essays to write on difficult chapters that they’re not even meant to be learning until the third semester, but Niall just finds himself struggling to understand anything that he reads in his copy of _Advanced Potion-Making._                                      

So naturally Niall resigns to nursing his mini-crisis in the cosy comfort of the Common Room, at least until Harry shows up after his remedial Arithmancy lesson, looking thoroughly weary and exhausted.

“I would just like to know,” he’s saying as he collapses into the armchair next to Niall’s and drops his bookbag with a thump, “ _why_ in the name of Merlin I thought taking extra classes with Professor Vector would help me make any more sense out of the fucking difficult homework that she – hey, aren’t you meant to be practicing Quidditch? I saw the rest of the team outside on the way here.”

“Can’t,” Niall says miserably, sinking back against the plush velvet, “Snape set me more Potions work to give in by Friday evening.”

Harry suddenly perks up, looking more cheerful about Niall’s suffering than he’d expect, being his _best friend_. “That’s brilliant, Niall!”

“You know, I’d have loved to think that you’d have just the slightest bit of sympathy for me –“

“No, no, you don’t understand,” Harry interrupts, “Vector set me loads of work to do for Arithmancy as well, and I thought that I’d have to be slogging away in the library all by myself, but if you’ve got homework to do too – we can go down there and work together because honestly, I don’t think I’m going to get through this alone.”

Even if following Harry to the library and trying to do his Potions homework is quite possibly the last thing that Niall feels like doing, he reluctantly agrees once he figures that he might be able to find a book there that takes a more simplistic approach to explaining all the complicated concepts he needs to learn. Harry waits a while as Niall gathers his parchments and quills, and together they exit from the heat of the Common Room and make their way through drafty corridors into the library, finally settling at one of the long tables situated near some shelves.

While Harry starts unpacking his various Arithmancy equipment (complex number charts, textbooks, and a funny type of calculator with only six buttons on it), Niall walks along the Potions shelf, perusing any books that look like they may be relevant to his work. After ten minutes he eventually picks out one titled _Potions: Important Concepts Behind its Application_ and sits back down beside Harry, flipping open to the pertinent chapters and starting to read.

Even though this book seems to be more concise and manageable than _Advanced Potion-Making,_ by the end of the hour all Niall has managed to produce is a short, meager list of bullet points that he’s picked out. He notices, a little resentfully, that Harry appears to have been much more productive than him; having drawn intricate geometrical lines and shapes with various types of calculations all over his parchment, tiny paragraphs annotating his notes everywhere.

“That looks like a bloody nightmare, I’m not going to lie,” Niall says after a moment, watching his friend.

Harry looks up from his parchment, then grins. “It’s just maths, really, once you’ve decoded some of the Chaldean numerology. But it _can_ get fucking difficult sometimes.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” Niall gives the detailed diagrams on Harry’s parchment another doubtful look. “Why’d you even pick it?”

“I’m quite good at maths, believe it or not,” Harry snorts, putting his quill away. “And I think it’s interesting.”  
  
“Are you good at Potions, too?” Niall gestures toward the pathetic few notes that he’s scribbled down. “Because honestly, I could use some help.”

Harry laughs and shakes his head. “Can’t help you there, mate, only got a _Dreadful_ grade in my Potions O.W.L. last year. Snape was so disgusted he threatened to take five points from Gryffindor every time he so much as catches me _walking past_ his classroom in the dungeons.”

“Excuse me, d’you think you’re quite finished with that Potions book?”

Niall looks up at the voice and sees an unfamiliar student standing beside them. He’s a Slytherin, quite plainly – even if he hadn’t been wearing the green and silver-trimmed robes, it’s obvious from the pointed features and perpetual look of disparagement on his face.

“No, actually, I was going to borrow it for my homework,” Niall tells him, a little coldly.

“Problem is, though,” the Slytherin says, “I’m quite certain I need it more than you do. I’m a seventh-year, you see, and I’ve actually got to do my N.E.W.T in Potions this year. All the other copies of the book have been borrowed, this is the only one left in the library and I only need it for a week or so to revise from.”

“Well, I only need it till Friday, so you can wait,” Niall clutches the book a little closer to his person defensively. “I’ve got three essays to give in to Snape, he’ll have me dropped from Quidditch if I don’t.”

The boy purses his lips distastefully, looking at Niall like he’s some common goblin. He has meticulously-styled brown hair, and blue eyes that seem chronically heavy-lidded. “I don’t think you quite understand. These exams determine my future, you thickheaded mule, unlike your _stupid_ Quidditch games. I _need_ that book.”

“Watch your tone with my friend,” Harry snaps, “it’s just a fucking book. Go borrow another one.”

“ _Go borrow another one_ ,” the Slytherin repeats mockingly, before turning his fierce cerulean glare upon Harry. “If you weren’t so daft you’d know that this is the only Potions book in this library that contains any information on Armotentia, the key component of an Armadillo Bile Potion. I’m trying to do some research on the properties and active chemicals in the ingredient that makes it so potently corrosive in its use.”

It’s clear from Harry’s face that he understands very little of that, but he scowls back anyway. “Well, you can take your bloody Armo- um, _Armotentia_ , and stick it up your ugly rotten Chamber of Secrets because Niall found the book first.”

The boy’s lip curls and he steps back. “I’m going to get a signed note from Professor Snape giving me express permission to take that book from you,” he says to Niall, and then turns to Harry with a revulsive look. “And by the way, those inductive calculations you’ve done for Arithmancy are imprecise, so you might want to just check your work a bit more next time.”

Harry’s face goes a seething red at that, and the sudden, incredibly abusive stream of profanities that he starts uttering lasts for a good few minutes, long after the Slytherin prat turns around and strides out of their sight.

\--

“Why weren’t you at practice today?” Josh demands when he collides into Niall at the foot of the Grand Staircase. He’s fresh out of the shower, hair still damp, carrying a bundle that Niall assumes is his Quidditch uniform at his side. “We all thought you’d have to be dying or something in the Hospital Wing to miss the last training session before the match.”

“That doesn’t sound too far off,” Niall says, falling into a step beside Josh as they start climbing the staircases leading up to the seventh floor. “Something important came up.”

“What’s more important to you than _Quidditch_?” Josh asks incredulously.

“The fact that Snape won’t let me play in _any_ of the remaining matches this semester unless I do his fucking homework,” Niall snaps at him. “What’d I miss in practice, anyway?”

Through the windows, he can see that it’s raining outside again, splattering onto the enchanted stained glass portrait of a hunched-over man who’s shaking his head repeatedly to flip water out of his hair. “We didn’t really know what to do without you around, couldn’t practice a mock game with our captain missing or anything,” Josh is saying, “so we went through our drills from the last few sessions and over some passing techniques. Oh, and some practice into controlling the Snitch’s field presence.”

“That reminds me, I drew up some tactics for the match last night, hold on, it’s in here somewhere,” Niall pauses to rummage through his bag, digging around until he finds a piece of parchment that he was working on while Zayn wrote his essays for him. “Here, this is it. Tell the whole team to meet in the changing room tomorrow evening so we can go over it together. We need this to win.”

Josh takes the parchment and puts it securely into his pocket. “Would’ve been helpful if you’d just showed up and gone over it with us today,” he grumbles.

“Why, have you got more important plans to attend to tomorrow?” Niall asks loudly.

“What’s got your wand in a knot tonight?” Josh gives him a scathing look, affronted. “You’re always so _bloody_ argumentative.”

Niall presses his mouth into a thin line and continues up the stairs, staying silent until they reach the portrait of the Fat Lady. She swings open when he says “ _ignis draco_ ” and they climb through the short tunnel together.

Once in the Common Room, Josh flops onto a chaise lounge, stretching his long lean body across the entire thing and yawning. A faithful gaggle of friends flock around him almost immediately, chattering indistinctly about a hundred things at once and offering him half-opened bottles of Dragon Barrel brandy that they probably smuggled in from Hogsmeade last weekend. He good-naturedly swigs one mouthful then declines the rest, looking up at Niall and calling him over. 

Niall sighs and heads over, sitting beside him on the soft upholstery. Josh affectionately slides one arm around his waist (more for the series of coos and  _Awwww_ s from the other students than anything else), and shifts back into a comfortable position by lying with a head on Niall's lap. 

The Common Room is ablaze with its usual weeknight buzz, students laughing and talking amidst the quiet roar of the fireplace. Niall spots Liam in a corner entertaining some first-years with a few showy spells, making them laugh and shriek as he hexes then un-hexes them. Harry's finally given up on Arithmancy and is now involved in a heated discussion with another boy about some type of Muggle sport called "rugby" that Niall has never quite understood. 

Josh keeps him occupied for a while (still on his lap) by telling him in more detail about the team's performance in their training tonight, then delves into a prolonged rant about how many "bloody Prefect meetings they've got us attending these days - giving us supervision tips for the first years like we're nannies in training!" Niall listens graciously, laughs and makes gurgling noises like a baby to annoy him, to which Josh responds by lifting up Niall's shirt and blowing raspberries into his belly button.

Eventually the Common Room starts emptying out as the students exchange their goodnights and head toward the dormitories. Harry and Liam pause for a moment to wait for Niall, but he waves them off dismissively, distracted by Josh's mouth on his skin. 

"I'll be up in a minute," he tells them, and they roll their eyes, unconvinced, before heading off. Niall returns his attention to his boyfriend, whose raspberries have turned into light kisses. " _Josh_ ," Niall is half-laughing, half-whining, "that's ticklish, stop -"

Josh grins as he gets up and tugs on Niall's legs, pulling him into a lying-down position on the chaise lounge. The warmth from the fireplace suddenly intensifies when he crawls on top of Niall on all fours, and Niall's almost thankful as Josh smoothly loosens his tie and starts unbuttoning his shirt for him. The Common Room is empty but for the two of them now, something that vaguely flits across the back of his mind while Josh is lacing his neck and collarbones with an artful combination of kisses and licks.

By the time they finish and finally stumble back into the boys dormitories forty minutes later, laughing and stopping to kiss every few steps, Niall's content and breathless and for the rest of the night he can't find it in himself to worry much at all about his predicament with Snape.   

\--

The next morning, Niall feels a bit more like himself. He decides to quit the wallowing and brooding as he sits at breakfast with his friends in the Great Hall, piling sausages onto his plate and wolfing them down. 

Harry's in the middle of filling Liam in on the whole business with the Slytherin from their previous evening, and he's eager to point out indignantly that, in fact, his inductive calculations had been  _mostly_  correct. 

"Sounds like a right twat," Liam says as he's spreading butter onto his toast. "Picking on younger students over some  _book_."

"And to think he had the nerve to find faults with  _my_  Arithmancy work," Harry scoffs hotly. "As if he even knows the difference between the Agrippa and Chaldean numerology systems." 

Niall can't say he knows what the difference is either, but he pretends to agree. 

"What was he so interested in that Potions book for, anyway?" Liam asks. 

"Some bullshit about how it's the only one that's got information on a stupid special potion or something that he's doing research on," Harry rolls his eyes. "Gibberish, it sounded like." 

"He can go and beg his precious Professor Snape all he wants, but I'm not giving him that book until I've finished those fucking essays I need to write," Niall says determinedly. He's not actually coveting the book, but the Slytherin boy obviously didn't know who he was crossing when he picked on them yesterday, and Niall's not going to give him the satisfaction of getting his stupid textbook so easily. 

"How are you planning to do those essays, by the way?" Harry tilts his head curiously. "They’re due tomorrow and you didn’t seem to have gotten much done yesterday.”

Niall casts an involuntary glance toward the Ravenclaw table. “I’ve only really got one option left at this stage, you know.”

Liam immediately straightens up. “You will _not_.”

“I don’t see what the whole issue is,” Harry shrugs, speaking in between mouthfuls of his sugary oatmeal. “The boy’s in Ravenclaw, how clueless could he be? He’s _got_ to know that Niall’s using him by now, the poor child is probably just excited over any opportunity to spend time with his new hero.”

Niall nods in agreement. “My point exactly.”

“You’re not his _hero_ , you giant-headed balloon,” Liam narrows his eyes at the pair of them.

“Well, if I’d gotten both a handjob and a blowjob from someone infinitely more popular and remarkable than myself, I’d consider that particular individual my hero too,” Niall says, grinning. “In fact, I think I’d probably _worship_ them. Doing their homework seems like such a small price to pay for all the great sex I get to enjoy in return. _And_ he’s a Ravenclaw too, right, so writing essays is probably some type of weird foreplay for him anyway.”

Liam snorts, but he seems slightly appeased. “Well, just be careful though, will you? You’ve got a boyfriend now.”

Niall looks across at the other end of the Gryffindor table, where Josh is laughing raucously with his faithful posse of friends. He looks like he’s in a painting; handsome brown hair swept back, two perfect rows of teeth visible through his open mouth, surrounded by his admiring circle of disciples. Anyone would be stupid, Niall thinks as he watches them fawn over him, to not adore Josh.

“Right, well, I’ve got double Charms with Hufflepuff now,” Harry gets up, brushing off his robes. “I will catch up with the two of you later. When’s your free again, Niall?”

“I’m free now, but I think I’d better go find my little Ravenclaw and give him a head start on all the work he needs to do for me,” Niall says, glancing at the Ravenclaw table again. He sees Zayn, one hand gripping a fork and putting little pieces of fruit into his mouth, the other flipping pages through a book that he’s reading. From this distance Niall can’t tell what the title is.

“I’ve not got much work to do this evening, so if both of you are free we can go plant Dungbombs around the wall outside the Slytherin Dungeon,” Harry tells him, then smiles hopefully. “Maybe our new friend from the library will walk by right as one of the big ones go off.”  

“Can’t, I’ve got to go over tactics with the team this evening,” Niall says. “But if you can wait till nightfall I’d be more than happy to do it with you.”

“You’re brilliant and I love having you as my best friend,” Harry blows him a kiss as he gathers up his things. “Oh, fucking goblin crotch,” he swears, looking at the time. “I’m five minutes late already, Flitwick’s going to have my head. I’m holding you to that Dungbomb promise, Niall, see you later!”

Liam laughs as he watches Harry sprint out of the Great Hall. “I’m off too, got to go for History of Magic,” he stands up, then nudges Niall. “Look, your new Ravenclaw pet is leaving – you’d best catch up with him before he gets too far.”

“Good call, Liam,” sure enough, Niall spots the lopsy hat slowly moving out of the Hall, eyes still glued to his book as he walks. “See you later, have fun in History of Magic.”

“Yeah, it’ll be the time of my life, parchment-cutting myself to death just to try and stay awake,” Liam rolls his eyes, and Niall chuckles at that as he gets up and starts to hurry toward Zayn’s receding figure.

He catches up to him eventually, and Zayn gives a small, startled jump when Niall puts a hand on his shoulder. He drops his book, but blushes and exhales as he sees who it is, then bends down to pick it back up. “You gave me a fright, Niall.”

“Oh, sorry about that,” Niall gives him his most winning smile. “Got a few minutes?”

Zayn glances around, and then shrugs, agreeing to follow Niall into the nearest male bathroom a few steps away. “What’s the matter?” he asks, clutching his book to his chest. “Did Professor Snape, um – were the essays not good enough?”

“No, they were incredible,” Niall assures him, “you did a wonderful job and now Snape thinks I’m some kind of prodigy.”

“Oh,” Zayn smiles, relieved, and relaxes a little. “That’s good news.”

“You know, Zayn,” Niall says, leaning forward slightly and tapping the Ravenclaw on the nose. “I think finding you in the library that night is one of the best things I’ve ever done.”

Zayn blushes embarrassedly. His hat is tilting sideways off his head. “There’s nothing so grand about writing a few silly essays, really.”

“Oh, there definitely is,” Niall says, licking his lower lip slowly and pleased to see that Zayn’s eyes follow the movement. “But I’m not just talking about your extraordinary essay-writing talents here, Zayn, I’m also appreciating just how delightfully _sexy_ I find you.”

Zayn seems a bit more flustered then, a dark flush slowly edging upwards from the collar of his robes. “I haven’t – you know, done anything of the sort for _you_ –“

“I know you haven’t, and that’s the problem,” Niall’s got him backed against a sink now, and he moves in so that both of his hands are at either of Zayn’s sides, keeping him trapped there. “You see, just _thinking_ about what it would be like to have you touch me is enough to drive me insane, Zayn.”

Zayn’s face is close enough that Niall can hear the rapid change of breath, Zayn’s chest rising and falling a little bit faster.

Niall’s fingertips touch Zayn’s mouth gently. “These lips,” he murmurs, pushing gently against the boy’s lips, which part slightly. Niall’s fingers land on the soft, wet tongue inside, and he says, “your _tongue_ ,” letting Zayn’s mouth close around his knuckles, like a smooth, slow vacuum.

Zayn’s staring, dazed and wordless, at him, his golden eyes fixated religiously on Niall like he’s being hypnotized.

“Even now, just looking at you sucking on my fingers,” Niall gives an exaggerated shiver, leaning in even more, “it’s putting all sorts of wicked thoughts in my head.”

Zayn’s tongue swishes around Niall’s fingers, testing waters, sliding slowly over and under and in between. His gaze never leaves Niall’s, but his eyes are going glassy.

“Does it turn you on, too, Zayn?” Niall whispers, his free hand moving to rest on the small of Zayn’s back, pushing him a bit closer so that their crotches are inevitably touching through multiple layers of clothing.

Zayn nods dizzily, like he’s in a trance, and lets out a long, quiet sigh when Niall bends to trace his tongue lightly down the side of his neck. Then he eases his fingers out of Zayn’s mouth, going in to leave the smallest kiss on his bottom lip – even that is enough to make Zayn quake.

“I want you to touch me,” Niall’s voice is barely above a hum as he takes Zayn’s pliant hand and guides it towards his crotch, rubbing slowly above the fabric. “I want you to make me shiver and _moan_ for you, Zayn. I bet you could, so easily. Couldn’t you?”

Zayn’s still looking at him with that wonder-like, wide-eyed stare, speechless.

Niall lets out a low _hmmm_ as he continues to rub Zayn’s hand over his stiffening cock, and sees that the soft sound has made Zayn’s breath hitch for a second. It’s a gift, really, that Niall’s giving him here. He’s letting Zayn see for the first time the effect that sex allows him have on other people, the noises that he can draw out of them with just a few touches, the complete control it gives him – that feeling is one of pure, drunk _power_ , and it’s addictive.

Within a moment Zayn’s hand starts moving of his own accord, no longer supported by Niall, applying different amounts of pressure and stroking and squeezing. Niall graces him with the appropriate groans and shudders, but it’s not until Zayn’s fingers have crept under his robes and there’s skin-on-skin contact that Niall feels the first proper tug of pleasure in his stomach. Zayn lets his hand roam, first grazing the head of Niall’s cock, then the inside of his thigh, then under his balls.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Niall exhales sharply as a shock of electricity fires upwards through his veins. “Oh, _fuck_ yes, Zayn.”

Encouraged, Zayn folds his fingers around Niall’s shaft, gripping tight. He’s watching Niall so bloody intently, so _mesmerized_ , so captivated by every single moan and whimper and sigh that Niall makes as he delivers the fluid, fast strokes. He’s doing a fucking fantastic job too, the way he keep shifting between quick up-and-down jerks and slower, tighter twists that spiral diagonally from the base to the swollen head.

The pleasure is sudden and sharp; white-hot pinpricks all over his body. Niall thinks about how they’re not even inside a locked cubicle, how openly guilty, so dangerous and hot, this is. The heat in Zayn’s gaze grows feverish, feels like it could set a firestorm ablaze under Niall’s skin. And Niall’s about to say something, about to laugh a little drunkenly about how he’d _known_ Zayn was a bloody kinky bastard from the very start – but then Zayn is kissing him, right in the middle of his open-mouthed moan, which ends with a surprised noise. Niall’s hand slides down, from the small of Zayn’s back to the soft slope of his behind and tightening his fingers over it, and the Ravenclaw boy whines into his mouth.

It’s that small, needy sound he makes that tips Niall over the edge, because it brings up a vivid flashback in his mind of the way he’d squirmed and moaned when Niall sucked him off on Tuesday night. He comes quite suddenly, and Zayn’s eyes finally leave his face to stare at his cock, lips parting open like he can’t quite believe he’s managed to achieve that.

The skin on his cheeks still warm and buzzing, Niall laughs at the look on Zayn’s face, panting a little. He lazily pulls out his wand and waves it slightly to clear up the mess he’s made on the floor, then puts it away again. “Well,” he says, looking at Zayn, who’s blushing, still amazed. “You’ve just successfully administered your first handjob, Zayn, how did that feel?”

Zayn’s mouth quirks up a little, but his face is still a deep scarlet. All he says is, “ _Wow_.”

“Wow, indeed,” Niall cards his fingers through his hair to separate the sweaty strands, grinning. “I find it very hard to believe you’ve never done this before, you know.”

“I haven’t,” Zayn’s wide-eyed, childlike smile is almost endearing. “This is the first time I’ve – you know, done anything like that.”

“I am _really_ quite impressed,” Niall says, then softens his expression, biting his lip as he places his fingers under Zayn’s chin and tilts his face up. “I think I’m looking forward to spending a lot more time with you from now on.”

As expected, Zayn’s eyes brighten almost instantly. “Really?”

“I’d have to be an idiot not to, after _that_ ,” Niall gives him a jaunty wink, and Zayn blushes again. “I have a feeling you’re going to be quite masterful in bed, and I can only _imagine_ what else you can do me.”

The door suddenly creaks off to their side, and Niall casts a quick glance over his shoulder to see a short, round Gryffindor first-year bumbling into the washroom. He lets out a happy squeal when he sees Niall.

“Hello there, Niall!” he says, smiling wide and running up to shake Niall’s hand vigorously. “I’m Cuthbert McLaggen; I don’t think we’ve met. But I’ve seen you play Quidditch – you’re amazing! My older sister Sybilla has been talking about you for _years,_ you know _–_ dunno if you know her, actually, she’s in Gryffindor too – and I’d really just thought she fancied you or something, but then I joined Hogwarts this year and she made me come to watch your games, _all_ my friends talk about you too – we’ve just _got_ to win the House Cup again this year, and if anyone at all can do it –“

“Uh, that’s great to know, Cutberth,” Niall interrupts, a little awkwardly. “But I’m sort of busy at the moment.”

The first-year looks delighted to have heard his name come out of Niall’s mouth. “No problem, sir, I mean – Niall, I’ll leave you to it!” he beams, then scurries off away into one of the cubicles.

Niall gives Zayn a small laugh and shrugs. He’s actually quite glad the first-year showed up when he did. Zayn looks like he’s torturously hard; a distinct outline of his erection is clear even under the loose Ravenclaw robes. And if there’s anything that draws someone in and keeps them hooked like no other, Niall knows that it’s teasing them to the point of pain, before merrily skipping off and denying them the pleasure they’ve been anticipating. It’s possibly the oldest trick in the book. “Alright,” he says, smiling at Zayn. “Well, thanks a billion for making my morning, Zayn, but I’ve got to go rush off to my Divination lesson.” (He doesn’t even take Divination.)

“Oh,” Zayn’s eyebrows furrow, like that’s the last thing he’d expected to hear. “ _Now_?”

“Why?” Niall asks innocently. “Is something wrong?”

Zayn’s face blushes even deeper, like he’s wondering how to explain for a moment, but then he shakes his head. “Nothing,” he says, biting his lip, “don’t worry about it. You shouldn’t be late to Divination, I – I don’t want to keep you held up or anything.”

Niall bends forward for a moment to lick playfully at Zayn’s mouth, giving his cock a knowing pat. “I’ll take care of that later, promise. If you’re free this evening I might find a few minutes in between all my homework to return the favour. Come to the Quidditch pitch, I’ll meet you at the bleachers.”

Zayn’s got that hypnotized look in his eyes again as Niall pulls away, says “okay,” and then watches almost ruminatively as Niall turns around and walks out of the washroom, leaving him there.

\--

At five in the evening, the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team shows up at the changing room near the pitch. Niall thinks it’s a little odd to see them all together like that not wearing their uniforms, but since they’re not practicing today, everyone’s either wearing Muggle clothes or Hogwarts robes.

“Right,” he says, once he manages to get everyone’s attention, laying out the parchment on a bench that they’re all standing around. He points his wand at it, murmuring “ _engorgio_ ,” so that the parchment swells and expands until it’s large enough for everyone to see clearly. “This giant circle represents our pitch on the day,” he says, gesturing his wand over the drawing. “The Daily Prophet forecasts a thunderstorm during the match, so we’re going to have to be extra careful of the wind giving Bludgers added momentum.”

“Is that meant to be a raincloud, there?” Cassius Zeller smirks, pointing at a poorly-drawn blob with some wriggling lightning bolts around it.

“Yes, shut up,” Niall rolls his eyes at him. “Now pay attention. What we know about the Ravenclaw team is that once they’ve got the Quaffle they’re highly likely to score with it – they have a very strong offensive strategy that we’re yet to figure out. Therefore, it’s our responsibility to protect that Quaffle with our _lives_ , to keep it from getting into their hands at any cost,” he turns to look at the other two Chasers, Serena and Cassius. “The three of us will have to move together, any time that we catch the Quaffle. We’re going to use the hawkshead arrow formation – I lead in down from the side to the middle,” he moves his wand down the edges of the pitch to demonstrate, “and the two of you follow from behind, and try to keep as parallel as you can. This way, the Quaffle will be as secure as it can possibly be, and Ravenclaw’s not brilliant at defense, so we should be able to score fairly easily.”

“What happens if we lose the Quaffle?” Serena asks.

“Good question, Serena,” Niall grins. “If we do end up losing the Quaffle, it’ll become your job to become the shadow of whichever of Ravenclaw’s Chasers has it. Follow them around and try to force a pass or steal it whenever you can. As for you,” he says to Cassius, who’s a tall fifth-year with thick, curly blonde hair, “you’ll need to keep yourself moving between whoever’s got the ball and whoever they plan to pass it to, and your only job is to try and intercept the Quaffle when they pass so that it’s safely back on our side.”

When both of them nod, he continues, “Meanwhile, I will be staying around the scoring areas. We’ve seen from previous games that Ravenclaw’s Chasers like to attack the scoring areas in pairs, because Keepers tend to be able to only block one Chaser at a time,” he looks pointedly at Ann Wilkins, their Keeper, who has bright magenta hair and a spiraling tattoo of a rose vine down the back of her neck. “When the pair enter the scoring areas, Ann, all _you_ have to do is focus on the whichever Chaser has the Quaffle. I’ll take care of the other one. Okay?”

Ann nods too, so then Niall turns to the two Beaters – Hermes Volkov and Gerald Hall. They’re both large, dark-haired, powerfully built and maybe a little scary-looking. “Now, as for the two of you, you need to remember that Ravenclaw’s offense is their strength – so their Chasers are a much bigger threat to us than their Seeker.”

Hermes snorts. “You’re just saying that because you think Josh is the best Seeker in the world and can catch a Snitch the _instant_ it appears on the field.”

“Well, he _can_ ,” Niall says, a little defensively. Josh gives him a happy grin. “Now listen. Since Josh is the best Seeker in the world he makes your lives much easier, because all you have to do is keep your eyes on the Ravenclaw Chasers and try to take them down as often as possible. They score very fast and often, so the more you keep pelting them with Bludgers, the better. Don’t bother about taking out their Keeper, he’s not that great and our Chasers should be able to score past him quite easily. Also, remember, they’ve got strong Beaters too, so as soon as you send a Bludger flying you need to be racing over to hit it from the other side – try to keep the distances short, so there’s a smaller chance that their Beaters will intercept it.”

“We were thinking we could split between attack and defense,” Gerald tells him. “I stop any Bludgers that they hit towards our team, then pass them to Hermes to send back at their players.”

“That’s brilliant, yeah,” Niall nods in approval. “Good plan.”

“What about _me_?” Josh whines, clearly getting tired of the lack of attention.

“This is the part where Niall says _you’re perfect, Josh, just follow your heart out there and we’ll win the game_ ,” Cassius says, and the other players snicker loudly.

Niall rolls his eyes. “Josh, well, you just need to do what you’ve always done. Fly in a figure-8, so that you’re constantly in the middle of the pitch and you’ll be able to spot the Snitch faster. Keep moving, their Beaters will know by now that you’re the best Seeker in Hogwarts, so you’ll be their main target. Try to stay close to Gerald, he’ll be able to stop any Bludgers that come your way.”

“ _Oh, Josh, you’re the best Seeker in Hogwarts_ ,” Cassius imitates in a high-pitched, simpering voice.

Niall aims a smack at his head, but Cassius ducks away, laughing. “Well, that about sums it up. The most important thing is to maintain constant communication while we’re up there, and you’re all incredible Quidditch players, so it won’t be a problem at all to take down Ravenclaw next week. Alright?”

Once the rest of the team indicates their agreement, Niall releases them, remembering to say, “ _incendio_ ,” conjuring a small orange flame to burn up the parchment with their strategies on it, just to prevent one of the Ravenclaw team members finding it after practice.

Josh hangs around for a moment or two once the other players exit, giving Niall a few quick kisses before pulling back. “I’ve got to go for a Prefect’s meeting,” he says mournfully. “But I’ll see you tonight, though? I’ll come to your dorm room.”

“Sure,” Niall says, waiting and watching till his boyfriend leaves back into the castle, before climbing out of the other door in the changing room – the one that leads to the Quidditch pitch.

He steps out onto the field, and immediately regrets not having brought a jumper with him. The air here is chilly and the grass on the pitch damp with mildew, but the weather is overall much better than it was when they were training last week. He glances up to see the Ravenclaw team practicing in the sky, whizzing around through the clouds and shouting directions indistinctly to each other as they throw the flying balls around. Then looking over at the bleachers, Niall spots Zayn sitting on one of them, watching his House team in the air.

He swiftly drives his fingers through his hair to dishevel it a little, then slaps his cheeks a few times to get them looking flushed. When he’s sufficiently roughened himself up, he takes a few large, hurried strides to get to where Zayn’s sitting, pretending to pant dramatically when he gets there.

“Zayn,” he wheezes, “Zayn, I’m sorry, I – I didn’t mean to be late, but _oh_ , the most horrible thing’s just happened.”

Zayn takes his eyes off the players to turn to Niall, looking alarmed at the state of him. “What is it?”

“You will not _believe_ what Professor Snape has just done to me,” Niall collapses theatrically beside him, breathing hard. “Three essays, Zayn! Three _whole_ essays he’s asked me to do – by tomorrow evening! He’s got it out for me, he really has, and I _know_ that he’s only being so nasty because we obliterated Slytherin in our last Quidditch match!”

“Merlin’s beard! _Another_ three essays?” even Zayn, the bloody homework-loving Ravenclaw, appears startled at that.

“Zayn, you don’t know how awful I feel,” Niall whines woefully, reaching for the boy’s hand and clutching it tight. “I _know_ I’d promised to spend my evening with you, but – I really think I’m going to have to be up all night doing Snape’s work.”

Zayn stares at their clasped hands, and his speech is noticeably slower and more distracted when he responds this time. “No, well, I – I really don’t want to bother you, Niall, you should go and –“

“Write my essays?” Niall interrupts, despaired. “I would, Zayn, but that greasy piece of shit gave me homework to do on topics we haven’t even _learned_ yet – I bet even someone as clever as _you_ wouldn’t know what a Volubilis potion is used for.”

“Uh, well, it changes the drinker’s voice,” Zayn says, with a small, almost guilty smile. “It can also be used to remedy a Silencing Charm and give someone their voice back. I, um – I like to read ahead sometimes, if I’ve finished all my work in class,” he explains, seeing the look on Niall’s face.

“Oh, that’s brilliant,” Niall exhales, groaning. “Just brilliant.”

“You know, if you’re finding the homework a bit difficult, I could – um, help you out,” Zayn suggests after a moment. “Not that – I mean, I’m not saying you _need_ me to help, but –“

“I couldn’t ask you to do that, Zayn,” Niall sighs loudly, but his thumb rubs over the skin on Zayn’s hand. “You’ve done too much for me already.”

Zayn’s attention is diverted back to their hands again, and he sounds preoccupied as he says, “It’s no trouble at all, really. I wouldn’t mind it one bit.”

“Are you sure?” Niall’s moving in towards him so that he can rest his chin gently on Zayn’s shoulder. “These essays really are quite nasty, you know – I’ve got to write about Golpalott’s Third Law and Alihotsy as well.”

Zayn doesn’t seem like he’s fully listening anymore, now that Niall’s face is so close to him. His cheeks flush again and he bites his lip, murmuring, “that’s no trouble, nothing too complicated…” but then his voice trails off and he’s just staring, distracted, at Niall’s mouth.

“ _Zayn_ ,” Niall breathes, his free hand brushing across the underside of Zayn’s jaw. “You are so fucking wonderful.”

Zayn looks like he’s trying hard to remember how to breathe himself, his chest moving up and down in an exaggeratedly slow manner. Above them, the Ravenclaw Quidditch team is still zooming about the clouds on their broomsticks, so high up that they look like small dark smears against the stars from here, their navy blue uniform almost indistinct from the inky night sky.

“Well, we should probably, uh, go inside,” Zayn’s saying, still gazing at Niall with that dreamlike look in his eyes. “The library’s warm and quiet, we can work there.”

Niall has to tear his gaze away from the Ravenclaw players (he had, for a moment, been trying to analyze their drills to figure out what exactly makes their offensive strategies so strong), but nods. Together, they quietly slip back into the castle and make their way to the library, sitting down next to each other at a long rectangular table situated by a tall, arched window.

Once comfortable, Zayn unrolls a piece of parchment and immediately starts writing. Niall notices that he doesn’t seem as nervous or fluttery when he’s absorbed in work – rather, he looks more serene and collected, looking intently between his copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_ and the parchment as he scribbles. His silly hat keeps sliding down the side of his head, something that Niall finds incredibly distracting, but he thinks it best not to interrupt Zayn while he’s working.

Around them, students mill in and out, talking hushedly, a few giving Niall coy smiles as they pass to take some books from the shelf nearby. At some point Madam Pince glides up in her pitch-black robes and delivers a ten-minute tirade about Niall’s repulsive irresponsibility at constantly forgetting about his overdue books, threatening (as she has done countless times before) to take the matter up to Professor McGonagall if he doesn’t return them. Niall rolls his eyes, nods, then waves her off quickly, and even Zayn looks like he’s smirking a little bit as he writes.

It’s only two hours later, when Zayn is finishing off the last essay and murmuring “what _exactly_ is it about Alihotsy – there’s this last unique point I wanted to make, but I just can’t find it in my book…” that Niall finally remembers the coveted _Potions: Important Concepts Behind its Application_ book that’s lying somewhere in his bag.

“Here, use this, it might be helpful,” he says, extracting it carefully and handing it to Zayn. “Be quick though, there’s this seventh-year Slytherin who’s been hounding me for it – even said he’d get a signed note from Snape just to take it off me.”

Zayn’s examining the book, turning it over and flipping through the pages inquisitively. “What’s so special about it? I think I might’ve read this one before.”

Niall squints a little, trying hard to remember what the Slytherin had mentioned about the book when he’d confronted him and Harry last night. “Um. I might be wrong, but I think he said it’s got – it’s the only book that has information on, uh – I think it was called Amortent or something odd like that –“

“Armotentia?” Zayn repeats, putting the book down and looking at Niall funnily. “The key component of an Armadillo Bile Potion?”

“Yeah, that’s the one,” Niall says, nodding. “Said he was doing some research on its properties or something.”

“Well, that’s quite curious,” Zayn tilts his head a little, looking from the _Potions: Important Concepts Behind its Application_ book on the table to Niall.

“Why’s it curious?” Niall asks, forehead creasing in confusion.

“It’s just, it’s quite odd he said that,” Zayn tells him, reaching for his copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_ and flipping through the pages. “Information on the ingredient Armotentia is readily available in _most_ Potion books, look, we’ve even got it in our textbook as well.”

Niall glances down at the page that Zayn’s turned to in his book, and sees a chapter titled _Armotentia: A Useful Magical Substance_. Raising his eyebrows in puzzlement, he turns back to Zayn. “But what the _fuck_? Then why would he lie about that?”

Zayn shrugs, but he’s eyeing the book suspiciously. “Well, there’s got to be something else that he wants in this book, hasn’t there? Just not something he’d have liked for you to know.”

“Well, I _want_ to know now,” Niall says indignantly, sitting up and puffing out his chest. “Whatever it is, it’s probably interesting.”

“It’s probably _dangerous_ ,” Zayn lowers his voice, his lopsy hat nearly tipping right off. “You should be careful, Niall. He’s a Slytherin, remember, he could be up to anything.”

“He criticized my friend’s Arithmancy homework, _and_ he called me a thickheaded mule yesterday,” Niall huffs. “If this is a chance to land his sorry arse in trouble I’d be happy to take it.”

Zayn smiles at that, before returning to the last essay. He finishes it off within a minute, scratching down that final point on Alihotsy, before surveying it and then folding the parchment up into a neat roll for Niall. “Here you go, all done,” he says.

“You really are wonderful, you know,” Niall says, taking the essays from him and depositing them safely into his bag.

Zayn’s face flushes, and he smiles shyly.

Niall gets up, and he’s about to suggest that they find themselves an empty classroom so he can suck the soul out of Zayn’s dick to show him his gratitude, but then he remembers his promise to Harry and thinks of a much better idea. “Hey,” he says, “you’d like to know what that Slytherin’s up to, too, right?”

“Well, yes,” Zayn says slowly, “But, um, I don’t think that I should –“

“I’m going to join my friend Harry while he plants Dungbombs outside the Slytherin dungeons,” Niall says. “If you want to come, we could wait for that boy to show up, and it’d be useful to have some of your brains to help us figure out what he’s up to.”

Zayn’s blushing again, heat flaring under his bronze skin. “Wouldn’t your friend mind? I don’t want to, you know, _intrude_ or anything.”

“No, ‘course not,” Niall snorts, “Harry’s just thirsty for revenge against that Slytherin cunt for finding faults with his Arithmancy. The more to help him execute said revenge, the merrier.”

“Oh, okay,” Zayn says, looking slightly relieved, and Niall thinks that the pure warmth of the smile that he has on his face at that moment won’t ever be earned through any act of sex.

“Alright, well, it’s time to go kick some Slytherin arse, then,” he says, picking up his bookbag and almost grinning back as he and Zayn walk out of the library, side by side, and start to find their way towards the Slytherin dungeons together.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Look, I’m not very happy about having to do this either, you know, but if you hadn’t noticed – I’m in a seriously uncomfortable fucking situation at the moment and this is the only way I can think of to handle all of it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, not a lot happens in this one, it sort of serves as a filler sooo that's my excuse for the excessive dialogue and other garbage that this chapter entails

When they eventually find Harry, he’s already slinking around the dungeons, painstakenly placing Dungbombs on the stone floors every few metres and using a concealment charm to hide them from view.

“Got started without me?” Niall smirks, watching him roll them into a corner. “I thought we were going to do this together.”

“Duty calls, sorry, and you took too long,” Harry pushes a sweaty lock of dark, curly hair off his forehead, then looks up, raising his eyebrows when he sees Zayn. “Oh, hello.”

“This is Zayn,” Niall says, gesturing at the Ravenclaw.

“ _Zayn_ ,” Harry repeats meaningfully, with the least subtle undertone that Niall has ever heard. “Well, well. How nice to finally meet you, Zayn.”

Zayn looks nervously between Harry and Niall, paling a little with discomfort, and doesn’t say anything.

“Anyway,” Harry says briskly, stepping back and gesturing toward his handiwork around the corridor. “I’ve come up with a simple, brilliant trick today. Allow me to explain,” he adds, seeing Niall’s raised eyebrows. “But first, I need to warm you two up with some basics – which one of you can tell me _what_ , exactly, a Dungbomb is?”

Niall snorts, and he has to bite his lip hard to contain a smirk when he sees Zayn’s hand go up slightly, like he’s in class.

“Go on, then, Zayn,” Harry says, grinning.

“It’s a magical stink bomb.”

“Right, and how is it usually set off?” Harry prompts.

“Um. I think it’s usually dropped, which causes it to explode from the force it hits the ground with –“

“Exactly!” Harry wrings his hands excitedly, his dimples deepening like craters in his cheeks. “But let’s remember for a moment, Zayn, that in some instances _dropping_ a Dungbomb can be quite inconvenient. Can you suggest why?”

Zayn hesitates, then slowly says, “Because – because it means you have to be… at the scene of the crime when it happens? Because you’re the one who has to drop it?”

“Yes! Ten points to Ravenclaw!” Harry shouts happily. “Wow, you _are_ a clever one. No wonder Niall likes you so much.”

Niall rolls his eyes, but Zayn’s smiling in a small, embarrassed sort of way.

“So how then, you may ask, is one meant to plant a Dungbomb in the Slytherin corridor without being present when it goes off?” Harry’s got an eager, manic gleam in his eyes now as he talks, words spilling out quick and excited. “That, my friends, is where my little Trigger Charm comes in.”

“Trigger Charm?” Niall repeats. “Haven’t heard of that one before.”

“Of course you haven’t,” Harry says impatiently, waving a hand quickly to shut him up. “That’s because I spent all evening making it up. Spell creation, you see, and a fine one at that.”

“Oh, what does it do?” Zayn questions curiously.

“I’m glad you ask, young one,” Harry smiles again, very warmly, at Zayn. “A Trigger Charm, as the name suggests, can turn any object into a touch-sensitive trigger. Highly useful, because it can delay the effects of certain magical items – say, a Dungbomb – for any length of time, until something sets that trigger off.”

“So even if you’ve planted an entire bag of Dungbombs in this corridor and made them invisible, they won’t go off until someone actually steps on them?”

“Precisely!” Harry’s smiling so big now that both rows of his teeth are visible, his jungle-green eyes glimmering with pride. “Brilliant, isn’t it? It’s like setting a booby trap! Any odd Slytherin will be walking down this corridor, minding his own business, and BANG! The second that his feet unwittingly touch any one of these Dungbombs, it’s immediately set off!”

“What about the rest of the Dungbombs?” Niall asks concernedly, though he has to admit that he’s quite impressed by Harry’s ingenious idea.

“That’s my favourite part,” Harry’s happily bouncing on the balls of his feet. “See, because the Trigger Charm will delay the effects of the Dungbomb until someone actually steps into it, this horrifying stink-fest in the Slytherin dungeons could go on for _days,_ Niall. I’ve got them planted around everywhere, every corner and edge, and lots in the middle of the corridor as well. Who knows how long it could be before _all_ of the Dungbombs are set off?”

“Well, if there’s a large group of Slytherins walking in at the same time,” Zayn says, and this time he sounds a bit more confident, sounding as if he’s warmed up to Harry. (Niall can’t blame him, though, one of Harry’s best qualities is that he’s unfailing warm and genuine – even someone as wary as Zayn is likely to trust him within moments.) “If, say, a whole gang of them is coming up from dinner or something, and they collectively step onto eight Dungbombs at one time –“

“Then eight Dungbombs go off immediately!” Harry beams, “Isn’t it just pure _genius_?”

Both Niall and Zayn nod in admiration, and Harry enthusiastically hands them a few more Dungbombs from a muddy-looking bag in his pocket. “Here, help me plant the rest of these around the dungeons, and then we can hang around later to observe while this stroke of brilliance comes into effect.”

It takes another ten minutes for them to plant the final few Dungbombs everywhere, being careful not to step onto the ones that have already been placed around the floor. Harry teaches them the simple charm (which involves a twirl of the wand and the incantantion “ _triggerio_ ”), making sure that they’ve performed it on every single Dungbomb before hiding them with concealment charms. While they work, icy blasts of wind rattle the grills near the dungeons, but thankfully, there’s no rain pelting in through the open windows.

“You know,” Zayn says to Harry as they finish, brushing his hands off on his robes. “That Slytherin in the library that Niall told me about – he lied to you.”

“Oh?” Harry raises an eyebrow, tilting his head. “How come?”

“What he said about Armotentia – it’s not true that you can’t find it in any other book, it’s actually – it’s quite a useful ingredient, and it’s very commonly used to make corrosive potions. Even _Advanced Potion-Making_ has a chapter on it.”

“I _knew_ it!” Harry shouts suddenly, his eyes lighting up with a triumphant glee. “I _knew_ that good-for-nothing, stuck-up twat was lying! Oh, I can’t _wait_ till he comes marching up around here – I hope he gets hit in the face with a massive blast of Dungbomb stink, because –“

“Yeah, that’s all very well, Harry,” Niall interrupts. “But don’t you think there’s a slightly more important issue here?”

Harry pauses, looking at him. “Like what?”

“Don’t you want to know _why_ he lied?” Niall prompts impatiently. “What it really is about this book that he wants so much?”

Harry frowns, like the thought hadn’t occurred to him. “Er. I assume he was just using any opportunity to be a dick. He looks like he’s got it in him to be a massive dick at all times. Although,” he says, after a moment, looking pensive. “Being a massive dick at all times really _must_ be quite a talent.”

“Well, I think he’s up to something,” Niall retorts pompously. “And I want to know what it is.”

“What’re you going to do, _interrogate_ him?” Harry gives him a derisive snort, like _Niall’s_ the one who’s coming up with crazy ideas now. “How exactly do you intend to find out what he’s up to?”

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” Niall says stubbornly. “I want to land him in a week’s worth of detention, at _least_.”

“You know, whatever he’s up to, it’s probably nothing important,” Harry says, shrugging disinterestedly. “Probably something stupid, like – how dangerous could someone who looks like an overgrown elf be anyway?”

Niall opens his mouth, but shuts it immediately when Zayn nudges him, pointing towards one end of the corridor, where the sound of footsteps and chatter is steadily growing louder.

“Ooh, just in time,” Harry whispers, rubbing his palms together in delighted anticipation. The three of them quickly duck out of the dungeons, off to another side on the corridor, where they’re safely hidden near a staircase. They peep over the corner of the wall, observing quietly.

Niall grins when he realizes that it’s the Slytherin from the library and his friends. The emerald green trimming of his robes sweeps the floor as he walks. Surrounded by a group of Slytherin mates, the curled-lip look of disdain is nowhere to be found on his pointed face this time – he looks quite a bit different, somehow, now that he’s laughing and merry.

“How has he got _friends_?” Harry whispers loudly, sounding extremely offended.

The three of them watch as the group of Slytherins enters the corridor. When they near the first Dungbomb, Harry grabs Niall’s hand and squeezes it tight with excitement. Niall holds his breath and waits, and almost immediately –

A loud, horribly vulgar noise that sounds exactly like a thunderous fart explodes around the dungeon, and the very next second the air fills with a putrid, pungent odour, so strong and revolting that Niall’s eyes start to water and he has to painfully pinch his nostrils shut. It wafts around the entire area, and Niall blinks furiously to catch the Slytherin reaction, expecting to see them enraged.

But – they’re _not_.

Instead, the group of Slytherins is suddenly laughing much louder and harder than before. One of them is leaning into the wall for support, the other on his knees and banging his fists on the ground. Even the haughty one from the library is howling with laughter, clutching his stomach with his face completely flushed.

“Which – which one of you just _farted_?” he heaves out, in between uncontrollable peals.

A short, auburn-haired friend smacks him on the shoulder, still guffawing, and manages to gasp, “it’s a _Dungbomb_ , you fucking idiot,” before dissolving into hysterics again.

For some reason the whole group of them finds that extremely amusing, and they collapse to the floor, convulsing with laughter – which inevitably sets off more Dungbombs with deafening bangs. However, instead of irritating them (as Niall knew Harry had desperately been counting on), the increasingly horrifying stench seems only to entertain them some more, and they all roll around on the ground like a hyena pack, cackling.

Harry’s grip on Niall’s hand has gone slack. He’s staring at the hysterical group, a mixture of annoyance and confusion on his face. “What are they _laughing_ about?” he hisses at Niall, who can’t think up of an answer and so doesn’t reply.

It takes a few minutes for the Dungbomb odor to simmer down, and then many more for the howling Slytherins’ laughter to settle into quieter chuckles. Harry watches, looking exceptionally cross, as they eventually pull themselves off the ground, wiping tears from their eyes. It’s only when they’re about to turn toward the entrance of the Slytherin Common Room that he finally decides he’s had enough, and jumps out from behind the wall.

“What the _fuck_?” he shouts loudly at them, “What’s wrong with all of you?”

The Slytherin from the library turns toward the noise to look at Harry, and the edges of his mouth twitch a little when he recognizes him. “You,” he says.

“Yeah, _me_ ,” Harry snaps. “What’s – why aren’t you _angry_? You’re supposed to be _fuming! THERE ARE DUNGBOMBS IN YOUR CORRIDOR!_ ”

The auburn-haired friend is smirking at Harry, taking him in with a scornful leer. “Ooh, who’s this, Louis? Your new boy toy?”

The Slytherin from the library – or, apparently, _Louis_ – ignores his friend and continues gazing at Harry, his shocking, sharp blue eyes glinting. “Why? Were you the one who put the Dungbombs in our corridor?”

“That’s classified,” Harry huffs impatiently, with a noncommittal wave of his hand. “But why doesn’t it – doesn’t it bother you at _all_?”

“Oh, I think it quite would, actually, under normal circumstances –“

“What do you mean, under _normal_ circumstances?” Harry interrupts loudly, clearly irritated.

Louis smirks again, still gazing at Harry. Then his eyes flicker over to Niall, and they narrow at once. “You’re here, too,” he says contemptuously. “You know, I’ve gotten my note signed by Professor Snape –“

“What do you mean, your circumstances aren’t normal?” Harry interrupts again, louder this time. “Why the fuck aren’t you angry at all?”

“Oh, was _that_ your goal?” Louis laughs breezily. “Really? You just wanted to make us all angry? Well, I’m sorry to inform you, but you’ve quite possibly picked the worst day to do it.”

Harry looks like he’s about to throw a punch, but Louis remains undaunted, coolly staring back at him. “Worst day?” Harry repeats, through gritted teeth. “What, is it Slytherin’s birthday or something?”

Louis’ friends burst out laughing, knocking into each other senselessly, and even Louis seems to be fighting a smile. “Tell you what – er,” he pauses, frowning a bit at Harry. “What was your name again?”

“Harry,” he snaps back, annoyed.

“Right. Harry,” Louis says, “if you tell your friend to hand over that Potions book that I want, maybe I’ll tell you why we’re not upset by your outrageous efforts into pissing us off.”

Harry opens his mouth angrily to answer, but it’s Zayn who speaks first. Niall whips around to stare at him, half-impressed and half-shocked.

“Isn’t it a bit obvious?” Zayn’s saying in a small voice. “What you’re all – laughing like that for?”

The Slytherin turns his ice-blue gaze onto Zayn, and his lip curls as he takes in the blue robes. “Oh, it’s _obvious_ , is it? And why’s a know-it-all Ravenclaw like you hanging around these two bumbling idiots? Decided to leave your books for a while, get a bit of action? Tired of being so _invisible_ , are you?”

“It’s Alihotsy, isn’t it?” Zayn says, ignoring the insults despite the fact that a heated flush has inched up his face. “You must’ve – must’ve done something with its leaves –“

Neither Harry nor Niall understand what he’s saying, but if the Slytherins are surprised, they don’t show it. Louis licks his lips and smiles smugly at Zayn. “Done _what_ with its leaves, exactly, do you think?”

Zayn hesitates, looking flustered again. “Done – done some kind of a potion, maybe the Alihotsy Draught – inhaling the fumes can cause hysteria, or, or even drinking the potion, but –“

“But _why_ , you may wonder?” Louis interrupts, mouth twitching. “Well, that, unfortunately, is none of your business.”

“We know you lied about needing information on Armotentia,” Harry says savagely, glaring at the Slytherins furiously. “It’s available in any old bloody Potions book.”

Louis merely scoffs, obviously to Harry’s severe disappointment. “Pity. I really was surprised the pair of you were stupid enough to believe me that night – it’s a shame that you’ve suddenly found yourself a Ravenclaw friend who actually has any brains. Otherwise I could’ve fooled you forever, and it would’ve been quite funny.”

“Tell us what you really want with that book!” Niall shouts, incensed by the Slytherin’s nasty grins.

Louis’ friends start laughing again, threatening to topple over in their hysterics. Louis has an obviously amused expression on his face too. “Was I unclear the first time?” he says. “Sorry, I thought I’d explained that it’s really _none of your business_.”

“What’s Alihotsy?” Niall asks Zayn, turning to him instead. “Isn’t that what you were writing the essay about?”

Zayn’s eyes widen slightly in alarm as he nods, and he says, “it’s a plant – the leaves can induce laughter.”

“Is it illegal?” Harry asks hopefully, and he scowls when Zayn shakes his head, looking rueful.

“Is there – is there some kind of countercurse or something to get them to stop giggling?” Niall warily eyes the Slytherins, who are now keeled over with an apparently hilarious fit of roaring laughter.

Zayn shakes his head again. “The only known antidote is the molasses of a Glumbumble insect. And those might be difficult to find within the castle itself.”

“Unfortunate. Well, that settles it, then,” Niall says grimly, reaching into his pocket for his wand. The Slytherins, still hooting unnecessarily, don’t notice as he pulls it out. He’s about to aim it at them with a good mind to hex the whole lot when Harry stops him.

“Don’t,” he says nervously. “The trouble’s not worth it, look at them, mate – they’re all _out_ of it, Niall.”

“So?” Niall snaps indignantly. “Doesn’t mean I can’t use a Horn-Tongue hex to shut them the fuck up.”

The Slytherins, now noticing his raised wand, howl even louder, collapsing to the floor again and rolling onto their backs, clutching their bellies and legs kicking helplessly in the air. “He thinks he’s going to attack us!” the auburn-haired boy is screeching, “little baby sixth-year thinks he can pull his little wand out and –“

“ _Titillando_!” Niall shouts, ignoring Harry’s protests, and a collection of purple finger-shaped smoke ribbons blast out of his wand, heading straight for the group of Slytherins and tickling them viciously. The laughter grows more panicked and pronounced as the group, including Louis, struggle to squirm away breathlessly from the fingers of smoke.

“A _tickling_ hex, really,” Harry says, but he’s grinning. “Good thinking. We’ll see how much they love laughing now.”

“We should go,” Zayn says quietly, like he’s half-expecting to not be heard at all. “Before a teacher comes down to see what all the noise is about.”

Harry and Niall both agree, and together the three of them quickly slip out of the dungeons, leaving behind the wriggling hexed Slytherins. They find the Grand Staircase and hurriedly climb it to the seventh floor, sounds of raucous laughter following them all the way to the top. It’s only when they pause at the bannister, panting slightly for breath, that the noise fades away into a distant echo.

Harry, finally appeased, lays down idly on the stairs and sighs. “Pity about the Dungbombs, though. If I’d known I’d be wasting all of them on a bunch of drugged-up Slytherins, I wouldn’t have made such a large order. Galleons don’t grow on trees, you know.”

“I wonder where Liam is,” Niall says mournfully after a second. “He missed out. Did he say where he’s going to be earlier?”

“No,” Harry shrugs. “He’s probably in Charms Club. You know, with that Hufflepuff girl that he’s been running after.”

“Cheryl?” Niall snorts. “Right. As if _she’s_ even going to notice he’s there. Got her nose a bit too high up in the air, hasn’t she?”

“Shhh,” Harry says, all chaste and loyal, “Liam has lots of good things going for him, she’ll see that eventually. Although, he _did_ confide in me that he heard some other Hufflepuffs talk about how Cheryl sent you chocolates and asked you out earlier this year. It kind of worried him, I think. Didn’t want to be going for a girl if she’s going for his best mate.”

“Yeah, she sent me chocolates,” Niall waves a hand dismissively, “I told her I wasn’t interested. Not my type, you know.”

“ _Your type_ as in someone in possession of a penis, you mean –“

“Not necessarily,” Niall drawls. “I _have_ been with girls, Harry, and I’ve enjoyed it too.”

“Yes, but that was _before_ you discovered how much you enjoyed being impaled up the arse by Josh Devine’s massive –“

Zayn makes a small hiccupping noise, and Niall turns to him with raised eyebrows. He’d nearly forgotten that Zayn’s been there with them; the Ravenclaw stayed very quiet throughout the course of their conversation.

“Sorry,” Niall says. “Harry can be quite tactless sometimes.”

“Oh, right, put the blame on _me_ ,” Harry grumbles.

“I should go,” Zayn says, a little awkwardly. He looks like he’s feeling sorely out of place. “Thanks for, you know, letting me hang around – that was quite fun.”

“Oh, where are you off to?” Harry asks, looking at him in surprise. “It’s only been a couple of minutes. Don’t you want to stay a bit? We can play Exploding Snap.”

“I – I’ve got a bit of work to catch up on,” Zayn says. “I should probably head to the library to finish it off.”

Harry scrambles to his feet at once. “Hold on, I’ve got some reading to do for Transfiguration too. If you wait here a few moments I’ll pop into the Common Room to get my book and we can go together,” he says, but then pauses to grin, baring his dimples. “ _I_ won’t be giving you any blowjobs while we study, though.”

Zayn immediately flushes a deep, dark red, and Niall tries to shove Harry into the stairs, but he’s already laughing and leaping up towards the portrait of the Fat Lady. Niall waits until the portrait has swung open and Harry has securely crawled through the tunnel out of earshot before turning back to Zayn.

“Sorry,” he says again, and he genuinely means it, because Zayn looks awfully embarrassed and is blushing all the way to the tips of his ears. “He doesn’t often think before speaking.”

Zayn shakes his head, rubbing his hands against his heated cheeks. “I didn’t – I didn’t tell anyone about what we did.”

“Neither did I, but Harry’s my best mate, he _knows_ I can’t do three essays in two days,” Niall says sheepishly, “and he sort of guessed, you know, after he noticed me staring at you all morning over breakfast. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Oh, no, of course not, I think he’s quite nice,” Zayn’s face is still a warm, buzzing red. “I just thought – maybe you’d wanted to keep it quiet –“

“I don’t _want_ to keep it quiet, honestly, I would much rather be open about what I do with you,” Niall tries to smile convincingly at him, leaning forward until he’s so close he can feel Zayn’s exhale, soft on his face. “It’s just – well, word spreads quickly around this place, and I didn’t want to subject you to any unnecessary attention that might make you uncomfortable. You understand, right? For now it’s just easier if we don’t make a big fuss out of this.”

Zayn nods, but he looks deeply distracted and dazed now that Niall’s suddenly so close. His eyes are blinking heavily at Niall’s mouth, like he’s trying to look away but he can’t quite manage it. After a moment’s pause, Niall decides he might as well move in for the kiss. He takes Zayn’s lower lip between his own, earning himself a quiet sigh and a perceptible change of breath. He kisses him there, then bites very lightly on Zayn’s lip, teeth dragging across the damp pink flesh. Zayn makes a small noise that sounds almost like the mewl of a kitten, and his shoulders slacken involuntarily with a slight shudder.

“I’ve been gone _five seconds_ ,” Harry’s unnecessarily loud, awkward voice interrupts them, and Niall pulls away. Zayn’s face is bashfully ablaze again, like there’s an eternal flame under his skin. “Sorry to have to break you two apart, but we’ve got studying to do, Niall.”

Niall shrugs and moves back from Zayn, and Harry jumps down the stairs to reach them. He’s holding a Transfiguration textbook in his hands. “Come on, Zayn, let’s go,” he says, pulling the Ravenclaw boy up and marching him along briskly by his shoulders.

“Bye, Niall,” Zayn says, still crimson as he turns over his shoulder to give Niall a small smile. Niall barely has time to say it back before Harry’s steered Zayn away towards the library.

Once they’re out of sight, Niall gets to his feet and picks up his bag, making his way into the Common Room – extremely thankful for its welcoming warmth once he’s inside. To his surprise, he sees Liam sitting in the soft armchair beside the fireplace and it doesn’t seem like a trick of the light that he’s looking very upset.

“Hello,” Niall says, sitting down slowly beside him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Liam kicks at a spare roll of parchment at his feet.

Niall looks at him curiously. “Harry said you’d be in Charms Club. Did it end early?”

“No.”

“Oh, did you just decide to leave then?” he asks, and can’t help feeling that these questions seem quite stupid and pointless. What else would Liam be doing here?

“Yeah.”

“You love Charms, though, don’t you?” Niall frowns. “Why did you –“’

“Cheryl,” Liam says gloomily, staring hard into the fireplace like he’s watching something in the flames. “She talked to me today.”

Niall’s genuinely confused now. “That’s – that’s a good thing, isn’t it? You’ve fancied her for ages! Liam, that’s _great_!”

Liam takes a deep, slow breath, looking as though the effort causes him extreme pain. “Let me correct myself,” he says, finally drawing his eyes away from the firelight to look accusingly at Niall. “She didn’t talk to me about _me_. She asked me about you.”

“Oh,” Niall says, bewildered for a second, and then, “ _oh_.”

“That’s all you’ve got to say? The girl I’ve been interested in for months fancies you and all you say is _oh_?” Liam sounds angry for a moment, but then sighs and sinks back into the chair. “But I supposed you’re quite used to all that, aren’t you? To people following you around and falling at your feet.”

Niall opens his mouth, doesn’t know what to say, and closes it again. Then he tries again. “Liam, I’m – fuck, I’m sorry, that’s horrible –“

“Not horrible for you,” Liam interrupts glumly, turning back to the fireplace. “No, it’s all fine and dandy for you. You’ve even got Cheryl Fernandez-Versini dangling on a string for you now.”

“Liam –“

“You don’t even like her, do you?” Liam stares at him again, looking stricken. “You said last term you think she’s annoying and loud!”

“Well,” Niall says, about to insist that she _is_ , then stops himself. “Listen, mate. I’ll tell her myself that I’m not interested – she didn’t seem to get the message last time – but honestly. You can do better.”

“I don’t _want_ to do better!” Liam snaps, and for the first time Niall detects a quivering shadow of hurt in his voice. “I know _you_ don’t think much of her but, but to me she’s beautiful, and she’s kind, and –“

_And loud and annoying_ , Niall thinks impatiently. “Okay, well, that’s up to you, Liam – you know I’m behind you no matter what you do. Really, even if that involves playing wingman or helping you plan an elaborate date or anything at all, no matter how absurd –“

“Liar,” Liam says.

Niall opens his mouth. “I –“

“You wouldn’t lose a Quidditch match with Hufflepuff to help me get on her good side,” Liam tells him, matter-of-factly, but his mouth twitches a bit like he’s biting back a smile.

Niall stares at him for a moment, but then he grins sheepishly. “You’re right. I wouldn’t. Anything _apart_ from that, though, I’m behind you all the way. What did you tell her, anyway, when she asked about me? Did you mention Josh?”

“Yeah,” Liam says. “I said it’s quite common knowledge around Hogwarts that you’re dating Josh. But get this – she seemed under the impression that the two of you were having problems. Asked me if I knew anything about it, since we’re close.”

“How come she thinks we’re having problems?” Niall frowns. “I think I’d know if I was having problems with my own boyfriend, wouldn’t I?”

“Something about –“ Liam hesitates for a bit, then says, “well, one of her Hufflepuff friends has been boasting all week apparently, telling anyone who’ll listen that he and Josh, you know… it gave her the impression that the two of you had split, or something.”

Niall snorts. “Did the Hufflepuff git happen to mention anything about doing it in the Prefect’s bathroom?”

“He did, actually,” Liam says slowly. “Said Josh made a fuss over ensuring his ears were covered before saying the password, and that the Prefect’s bathroom is _much_ nicer than the rest of ours.”

“It is,” Niall nods seriously. “I was the first person that Josh ever took in there, we used to spend hours at night lying in that pool. Didn’t ever make _me_ cover my ears when he said the password, though.”

“Well, aren’t you annoyed? About Josh and the Hufflepuff boy?”

Niall shrugs. “Don’t blame him. Josh was badgering me all evening for a quickie and I kept having to turn him down – the night I was with Zayn, remember, when Snape set me three essays to do? I tried to explain to Josh I needed to do homework but I don’t think he can really hear much over the pounding of blood to his cock when he’s horny, so I suppose he got annoyed and ran off with the Hufflepuff.”

“Still, it’s not a sensible thing for someone in a relationship to do,” Liam says, looking irritated that Niall’s not taking this as seriously as he thinks he should. “You should say something to him.”

“Oh, I won’t have to,” Niall laughs a bit. “Josh will have a difficult enough time with all the badgering he’s going to receive from everyone who wants to sneak into the Prefect’s bathroom with him. Probably make him regret fucking someone who obviously can’t keep their mouth shut.”

Liam doesn’t look convinced, but he decides to let it go and changes topics tactfully. “So, have you got that Potions homework sorted? Using whatever Dark magic you’ve managed to pull over on your poor Ravenclaw friend?”

Niall grins, pointing toward the three neatly folded parchment scrolls in his bag. “All done.”

“Unbelievable,” Liam shakes his head, smiling softly. “Doesn’t it bother him? That you’re dating Josh?”

“Well,” Niall pauses with the slightest shade of guilt in his voice. “I sort of – I told him I wasn’t seeing Josh anymore.”

“ _What_? Why would you do that?”

“Well – he’s, he said we weren’t going to do anything of the sort if I was still with Josh, so I had to improvise and said that we’d had an argument,” Niall explains, then quails a bit under the steely look on Liam’s face. “I had no choice! He wasn’t going to let me suck him off unless I’d convinced him I was finished with Josh! How else am I meant to be getting my work done?”

“ _Niall_ –“

“Look, I’m not very happy about having to do this either, you know, but if you hadn’t noticed – I’m in a seriously uncomfortable fucking situation at the moment and this is the only way I can think of to handle all of it.”

Liam is still glaring at him sternly. “But you can’t – you can’t _lie_ to him, you’ve lied enough. What’s going to happen if Josh decides to come snog you on the field after a game and Zayn’s watching? Or if you’re in the toilets getting busy with Zayn, and Josh walks in? Doesn’t this seem a bit _reckless_ to you, Niall?”

“No,” Niall snaps. “What’s reckless about it? I’ll be careful.”

“A few Quidditch matches,” Liam says, shaking his head and looking infuriatingly disappointed. “Is that really worth everything you’re putting on the line here, Niall? You could end up seriously hurting _two_ people – both of which are quite fond of you already!”

“It’s not just a few Quidditch matches!” Niall raises his voice heatedly. “It affects how Gryffindor fares overall, losing just two matches will throw us completely out of the running for Quidditch Cup! Would you rather _Slytherin_ win this year? Or Ravenclaw, or Hufflepuff?”

“I would rather,” Liam says slightly sadly, “that my best friend would value the feelings of two actual people over a silver _cup_.”

“What would you know, you’ve never played a game of Quidditch in your life!” Niall shouts, immediately getting to his feet and trying to ignore the horrible sense of discomfort writhing around his gut, poisonous and guilty. “Big move there – if I was your _best friend_ I’d have expected just a bit of support from you, not telling me off for things I can’t control!”

“ _Niall_ ,” Liam begins exasperatedly, but Niall has already made the resolute decision to ignore him. He snatches up his things from the floor, slings his bag over his shoulder and storms up furiously to the room, where he dumps them beside the bed and flings himself under the sheets.

It’s no use trying to sleep. He’s too irritated, and the memory of Liam’s disappointed expression makes him want to throw something across the room. It’s not _fair_ , he thinks angrily. It’s not his fucking fault he’s ended up in this bloody mess, he didn’t ask for Snape to be a dick, he didn’t ask to rely on having to seduce a fucking Ravenclaw every time he needs to finish his impossible homework load, he didn’t _ask_ that everywhere he turns around the castle one person or another is giving him an enthusiastic smile, saying “I _know_ you’re gonna win that Cup for us this year, Niall!” – does Liam think any of this is _easy_? Is he under some twisted impression that Niall _enjoys_ any of it?

He’d hoped that hearing Harry quietly climb into the dorm room and settle into his bed would help to cheer him up, and he’s almost grateful that he’ll have the chance to vent his frustration to Harry – but he’s sorely mistaken, because a few minutes after Harry has settled into bed he softly says, “I don’t think you should fuck around with Zayn anymore.”

“Been talking to Liam, have you?” Niall asks, voice shaking with cold fury.

“What? No,” Harry says quickly. Niall hears him shift uncomfortably around on his bed, the movement accompanied by a soft rustle of sheets. “I just – he’s a really nice guy, you know? I don’t think that –“

“You were fine with me using him this morning,” Niall accuses, wishing it weren’t dark so Harry can see him glaring.

“Well, that was before I got to spend time with him,” Harry says, and although he hesitates, his voice grows more determined when he speaks again. “He’s a little innocent, maybe, kinda helpless – like a baby, but –“

“Oh, what, are the two of you best friends now?” Niall asks curtly. “After a grand total of two hours in the library together?”

“ _No_ ,” Harry says, sounding fierce. “Niall, get your head out of your arse for one second, will you? Maybe if you weren’t so hell-bent on seducing him you’d actually take a few moments to appreciate that he’s a genuinely good person. I mean, I really like him, we had a nice time today – he was so helpful with my notes, and he’s actually really funny when he’s not so fucking _nervous,_ the way he is whenever you’re around.”

“It’s not my fault he gets nervous around me!” Niall spits, chest growing taut with hissing anger.

“I’m not saying it is,” Harry tells him calmly. “Just that it might be nice if you stopped looking at him like an object to use whenever it’s convenient for you.”

“ _That’s not what I_ –“

“Isn’t it, though?” Harry interrupts, and there’s an unmistakable twinge of anger in his voice, his words growing sharp around the edges. “Explain what taking advantage of him in exchange for getting Snape’s essays done is, then!”

“When you say _taking advantage_ , what are you –“

“You know exactly what I’m trying to say!” Harry snaps impatiently. “You _know_ it, you bloody fat-headed prat! You’re good-looking and popular and confident, how difficult could it be for you to exploit somebody like Zayn? Someone who’s quiet and shy and gets nervous and flustered when you’re there –“

“What’s all the shouting about?” Josh pops in curiously, looking awed at the ruckus they’re making.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Niall demands, more unpleasantly than he’d have intended.

“Prefect meeting just ended,” Josh cluelessly walks into the dark dormitory. “Said I’d come spend the night with you, didn’t I?”

Niall realizes that there could be nothing in the whole wide world that he feels thoroughly _less_ in the mood for at the moment. “I changed my mind,” he says, annoyed. “I want to sleep alone tonight.”

The soft rectangular panels of moonlight from the window overlay gently onto Josh’s features, presently furrowed in confusion. “What’s the matter?”

“Why don’t you go ask your stupid new Hufflepuff buddy?”

“Oh, Niall, I –“ Josh hesitates for a moment. “I _am_ sorry about that, I really am – I didn’t think that –“

“That I would mind my boyfriend sleeping with someone else?” Niall’s having to force his words out by now, and he vaguely hears Harry snort and mutter _hypocrite_ across the room. “Well, too bad, you’ve put me in a terrible mood and I don’t want to see you tonight.”

Josh is fidgeting next to his bed. Niall almost feels bad for him – the handsome boy looks genuinely at a loss, more upset than Niall had expected, his face crestfallen. Truth is, Niall doesn’t really give a fuck about the Hufflepuff boy, but it gives him an undeniable bit of savage relief to take his annoyance out on Josh.

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” Niall tells him. “I just want to be alone tonight. Okay?”

“Well, okay, then,” Josh says unsurely. He deliberates for a few moments, then hurriedly leans in to kiss Niall beside his mouth. “Goodnight,” he whispers, then pulls back fast like he’s scared Niall’s going to bite, trotting out of the room.

“Don’t start,” Niall says irritably, knowing that Harry’s just opened his mouth and is about to point out his hypocrisy. “I don’t want to bloody hear it.”

“You already know what I’m going to say,” Harry says smugly, and Niall hears him turn on his bed so that he’s facing the other way, his back to Niall.

It takes a good half hour for Niall to surface from the ugly, raging sense of guilt now coursing like venom through his whole body, bubbling in his blood and seeping into every single capillary, but even as he finally manages to drift off, it’s with the distinct thought that both Harry and Liam have managed to make him feel like an absolute piece of shit for what he’s doing to Zayn.

\--


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Josh talked to me today,” he says, powdering up lionfish spines with a pestle. “Said he wants to be exclusive now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so turns out, apparently, i still feel like writing this fic hahaha

Breakfast the next morning is a slightly tensed affair. Niall sits between Liam and Harry, and even if nobody mentions anything about the preceding arguments from last night, Niall doesn’t think he’s imagining the clipped way that both of them address him when asking him to pass the butter.

It’s almost a relief when Josh separates (with admirable effort) from his group of devoted friends and comes to find Niall. He puts a hand on his shoulder and says, “Listen, can we talk?”

Grateful for the excuse to be rid of Liam and Harry’s disapproving glares, Niall quickly agrees and follows Josh out of the Great Hall onto the grounds. It’s a chilly morning, but the air is quiet with frost and Niall thinks the stillness is almost calming when they step outside of the castle.

“Niall, _about_ that Hufflepuff lad –“ Josh begins, looking anxious.

“I know,” Niall interrupts him with a shrug. “I overreacted, Josh. It really doesn’t matter.”

“Oh,” Josh says, looking surprised by that, but then quickly rearranges his features. “Well, I – I think it should. Matter, I mean.”

Niall tilts his head, a little confused.

Josh seems, for the first time in all the years that Niall has been interested in him, flustered. “It’s just, I think we’re quite serious now, aren’t we? The two of us?”

Niall stares at him wordlessly.  _Oh_. This is not at all what he’d expected. 

Josh is talking again before Niall can reply. “And I know it’s always been sort of –  _ambiguous_  – between us. No boundaries or anything, right?”

“I suppose not."

“Maybe it’s time to change that. And put in a few, well, rules.”

Niall raises his eyebrows in appraisal. “I think being a Prefect has seriously fucked with your judgment, Devine.” 

Josh scowls at him. "I'm being serious. I want  _us_  to be serious."

"What for? We're not getting married."

" _Niall_ ," Josh snaps. "This is important. I'm sorry about what I did with the Hufflepuff bloke. And I’m sorry about everyone else that I’ve been messing around with. I don't want that to happen again, and I won't let it." 

"Josh, if all this is because you think I'm annoyed about your Hufflepuff friend, I'm telling you, I was just in a bad mood and I took it out on you - there's really nothing to worry about."

"I  _want_  you to worry!" Josh raises his voice. "I want you to care, and to get mad when I fuck up, Niall, I want to be important to you!" 

Niall blinks at him. "You are important to me."

"Well, prove it," Josh says fiercely. "Let's agree on some rules. Let's make this relationship work."

"It's been working just fine so far!" Niall snaps. "What's gotten into you?" 

“Niall, I –“ Josh pauses to take an extremely long breath, his big doe-like eyes staring unabashedly at him. “I really, _really_ like you. And upsetting you yesterday made me sort of think about what it would be like if we broke up. I’ve been taking it for granted, you know, being with you. And I’m sorry about that. I want us to stay together, and staying together means we have to establish rules.”

“I’m perfectly alright without them.”

“If we don’t have any boundaries and we just go about doing whatever we like, we could end up doing something to really hurt each other,” Josh says earnestly. “I don’t want that to happen.”

Niall exhales. He’s never seen Josh act like this before. “What kind of rules are you proposing?”

“I thought, for starters, we should stop screwing around with other people. And also – we should spend more time _with_ each other. I haven’t been taking you on any actual dates, have I? So far it’s just been us –“

“Fucking each other’s brains out?” Niall smiles.

“Yeah, that,” Josh says guiltily. “I mean, it’s brilliant, but I want there to be something more.”

“Alright, that doesn’t sound too difficult. Less cheating and more dating, got it. Piece of cake.”

“I mean it, Niall.”

“Yeah, I know,” Niall says, but he’s grinning. “Isn’t it going to be a bit difficult for you, though, not sleeping with anyone else whenever I’m unavailable?”

“Well, I don’t _want_ anyone else anymore,” Josh says loudly, more stubborn and serious than Niall expected of him. “I want you, and you only.”

“That’s touching.”

“And you?” Josh asks. “You don’t fancy anyone else, do you?”

“No, ‘course not,” Niall says, and he means it. He takes a step closer to Josh and winds him arms round his waist. “I’d be stupid to, wouldn’t I, when I’ve got you.”

Josh is smiling, and in the gentle morning light Niall takes a moment to fully appreciate how handsome he really is. And then Josh is leaning in to kiss him, and even though his mouth is dry and a bit chapped from the cold, it leaves Niall feeling very warm and pleasant inside.

“Okay, Romeo,” he says, after the kiss. “What are you planning for our official first date?”

“Well, I _was_ thinking Hogsmeade,” Josh sighs. “But the next trip is a whole week from now. So I’ve got another idea, but I think it’s better if I leave it as a surprise.”

“Ooh, very romantic,” Niall grins. “Does it involve any whips and chains? Those are my favourite.”

Josh rolls his eyes. “It’s going to be nice. Trust me. I’ll have it all set up, I think I could even get the house-elves to help with the decorations.”

“Okay,” Niall says, laughing. “I trust you.”

By now, Josh’s cheeks are pinked from the cold, the tip of his nose going red. He remains slightly swaying, arms securely latched around Niall’s neck, and then bends down to kiss him again, a bit more fervent this time. The distant noises of the students inside the castle fade away for a few seconds, and Niall thinks he could stay in this moment forever.

They only separate again when someone clears their throat extremely loudly from nearby.

Niall pulls away from Josh, turning around to see Harry standing with his arms tightly crossed under the archway leading into the castle.

“We’ve got to go for Transfiguration now,” he says, sounding slightly stiff. “Are you coming?”

“Yeah, I am,” Niall hurriedly untangles himself from his boyfriend, says a quick goodbye, then returns back inside to where Harry’s standing. Harry doesn’t say anything to him, but just turns and starts walking with Niall following his fast strides down the corridor towards McGonagall’s classroom. “Listen, are you still –“

“Yes,” Harry says curtly, not looking at him.

“Harry, come on,” Niall breathes out. “You _know_ Snape is bullying me. What do you suggest I do, get thrown off the team?”

“Using Zayn isn’t the solution, you must’ve realized that by now,” Harry speeds up slightly. “It’s just going to make Snape give you more homework, and you’ll get Zayn to help again, and then it all becomes a cycle, doesn’t it?”

“Okay, so say I don’t ask Zayn for help,” Niall says, struggling to keep up with Harry’s increasingly fast pace. “What other options do I have?”

Harry stops, quite suddenly, outside the Transfiguration classroom. He turns to face Niall, and the fact that this is the first time that they’ve made eye contact since last night reminds Niall how upsetting it is that his best friend is angry with him. “Talk to McGonagall,” Harry tells him. “She’s head of house, she knows how important it is that you play on the team. She won’t let you be dropped from it. And then you can go apologize to Snape so he stops setting you impossible essays, and you can apologize to Zayn too for using him. And _then_ , you can leave him alone and stop fucking with him.”

“Alright, I’ll talk to McGonagall,” Niall follows him into the classroom, taking their usual seats near the back. “Will you please stop giving me such a hard time now?”

“Will _you_ stop hounding Zayn and making him to do your homework?”

“Why are you so protective of him?” Niall demands.

“Because we’re friends, Niall,” Harry snaps. “As a matter of fact, I’m going to hang out with him during lunch today.”

Niall stares at him, incredulous. Harry hasn’t spent a single lunch break _without_ him or Liam before, not once in six years. “Hang out with him? And do what?”

“We read up a bit more on Alihotsy last night in the library, and we think we’ve found out what that Louis prat is up to,” Harry says. “We’re going to follow him today and seek confirmation.”

“What is it you think he’s up to?”

Harry purses his lips. “I’m saving that to tell you at a time when I _don’t_ feel like hitting you repeatedly over the head.”

“Fine,” Niall slams his Transfiguration book down onto the table with unnecessary force. “Be that way, then. I don’t care.”

Professor McGonagall sweeps into the classroom after that, and the rest of the chatter among students dies down quickly. She begins the lesson with her usual lecture about the importance of constant revision for their N.E.W.T.s next year, and within a few moments Niall has zoned out, falling instead into a pleasant daydream where both of his best friends still want to talk to him and Snape tragically drowns in a cauldron of his own slimy potion.

It’s only halfway through the lesson, when Niall is still struggling to Transfigure the twittering bird on his desk into a vase (declining, repeatedly, the various pretty girls in the class who’d offered to help) that Harry speaks again.

“Will you definitely talk to McGonagall about it?” he asks, eyeing Niall coolly over the top of his vase, which looks very elegant but still emits faint chirping noises when touched.

“Yeah,” Niall says, face screwed up in concentration as he uselessly waves his wand again. The bird in front of him hops around the desk happily, avoiding the sparks streaking out the wand. “I was stupid not to think of it before. She might be able to help.”

“And will you stop leading Zayn on like that?”

Niall waves his wand again, so quickly that he nearly slams it onto the little bird, which lets out a high-pitched cheep. “How would I get Snape’s essays done?”

“Stop flourishing so much, you’re meant to use precise movements,” Harry steadies Niall’s arm, guiding it into a carefully calculated swing. The bird immediately immobilizes and when Niall looks closer, has appeared to stretch vertically into a small column-shaped figure, though it’s still balancing on its two tiny feet. “Asking Zayn to help – _help_ , not write the whole bloody thing for you, Niall, there’s a difference – might be okay. As long as you’re clear to him that it’s not in exchange for sexual favours or anything.”

“Would he even bother helping if he doesn’t get anything out of it?”

“That’s strictly up to him,” Harry shrugs. “But you are in no way allowed to try and coerce him into it by offering, I don’t know, a handjob or something –“

“And if he decides he doesn’t want to help?” Niall prods the column-shaped thing in front of him, which lets out an indignant chirp.

“Then go to Snape and tell him you’re sorry but you can’t do all the work he’s set you,” Harry says calmly. “He’ll give you detentions, but he can’t take you off the team if you get McGonagall on your side.”

Professor McGonagall comes by their table at that moment, peering down at their work. “Well, that’s quite nicely done, Styles. Just a little more focus on the incantation, perhaps, would do,” she pats Harry’s vase approvingly (it lets out a few excited trills at her touch), then turns to Niall’s. “You, however, need to be practicing this spell more. I’d have expected better from you after a whole hour.”

“Professor McGonagall,” Niall says quickly, before she can turn and leave. “Can I talk to you after the lesson? There’s something I want to discuss, it’s about Quidditch.”

The voluptuous, dark-haired girl at the table next to theirs, who had been gazing coyly at Niall all throughout the lesson, gives him an excessively warm smile when she hears that. “Did I hear you say _Quidditch_ , Niall?” she says, throwing the glossy black curls over her shoulder. “You’re so _good_ at that, you know, I can’t wait to come see you play in the match next week – “

“Focus on your own work, Miss Vega,” McGonagall snaps. “And, yes, Horan, you can speak to me at the end of this lesson. Meanwhile, I’d appreciate if you use the rest of the remaining time to work a little more on your spell.”

Harry’s attitude towards Niall thaws considerably after that, and by the end of the second hour they’re both laughing together again, taking turns to put Confundus charms on the little birds at everyone’s desk and watching as the students struggle to Transfigure their disorientated feathery animals. One particularly confused bird flaps its way determinedly into a Hufflepuff boy’s mouth and takes cover there, refusing to leave until McGongall irritably summons it back out.

She doesn’t set them homework when the lesson ends except to keep practicing the spell. The class clears out, a few grumbling about the scratches and pecks they’d suffered due to their Confunded birds, but Niall hangs around until all of them leave. Harry mouths a swift _good luck_ before hurrying off to his double Charms lesson, and then it’s just Niall and McGonagall left in the room.

“What is it that you wished to discuss, Horan? Not having troubles with the team, are you?”

“No, no, they’re perfect, they’re all brilliant,” Niall says quickly. “It’s just – I’ve just wondered, is it possible for a teacher to order me off the Quidditch team if they’re from another house?”

McGonagall stares at him, raising her eyebrows. “And why would that be of any concern to you?”

“Well, it’s – it’s Professor Snape,” Niall sighs. “We haven’t been on the best of terms, he –“

“Yes, he did come to me with several complaints regarding your undone Potions homework,” McGonagall surveys him calmly. “But I assume that you have long since resolved that issue, no?”

“He’s set me loads of extra work, Professor, even on stuff we’re not meant to learn until the last term,” Niall says. “He’s given me six essays to do just this week, and he keeps saying he’ll get me cut off the team unless I do them all.”

McGonagall frowns. “But why would he do that?”

“I don’t know. But I thought that, well, since you’re head of Gryffindor, surely you have a say in whether or not I’m cut from our team; even if Professor Snape wants to take me off, you’d be able to stop him, wouldn’t you?”

“If it’s simply a case of mistreatment, then I would definitely be able to stop him,” she says. “I’ll have to have a word with him first to investigate the reason behind all this additional homework he’s setting you, though. Incidentally, how did you manage to do all six essays in a week?”

“I – I stayed up really late every night to work on them,” Niall lies, trying to look as miserable and pitiable as he can manage. “I’ve barely slept at all.”

McGonagall’s face softens at once, and she reaches across the table to pat him kindly on the shoulder. “I will speak to Professor Snape and help you to sort this out. Meanwhile, it’s important that you get all your rest, Horan, we can’t have you off your game during the match next week…”

“Yes, Professor McGonagall, definitely,” Niall nods enthusiastically. “Thank you so much, I really – I was really worried about being thrown off the team, and –“

“You are the most talented and able Quidditch Captain that I’ve seen at this school in a very, very long time, Mr Horan,” she says, gathering up her books. “And it would certainly be silly of me to watch you being taken off our team without first putting up a fierce fight.”

\--

With Harry disappearing off with Zayn at lunch, and Niall unwilling to spend the whole hour alone with a still-grumpy Liam, it’s a blessing when Josh decides to abandon his admiring circle of friends for Niall. It becomes clear half an hour later, however, that Josh’s noble decision to stop fucking around with anybody else has left Niall with the sole, crushing responsibility of satisfying his boyfriend’s abnormally large libido all by himself.

Panting, flushed and naked, he rolls over on Josh’s bed in the empty boys’ dormitory. “How many times, exactly, do you do this everyday?”

“Two, maybe three,” Josh shrugs, using a hand to push the sweaty hair off his forehead.

“Is that why you’re always being followed everywhere by that whole group of people?” Niall says, turning onto his side. “Everyone’s just hoping they’re going to be lucky one who gets to sleep with you?”

 “I tried to pick someone different every few days, so they don’t get attached.”

Niall shakes his head. “And you did this _everyday_? With multiple people?”

“Why, are you jealous?” Josh grins, pulls Niall closer so that he’s leaning on top of his bare chest.

“Me, jealous?” Niall scoffs. “What would I be jealous of, getting fucked and then being thrown away like used piece of tissue? Yeah, sounds _really_ compelling.”

“Getting fucked by _me_ ,” Josh corrects, smugly.

“We both know that all I’d have to do is say the word and you’d drop everything to come suck me off,” Niall taps Josh on the nose affectionately. “But I do admire your stealth, it never once occurred to me that you always vanishing during lunch breaks was because you’d run off with someone to go have sex.”

“Not anymore, though,” Josh says at once, very firmly. “I don’t need any of that, don’t want it. Having you is enough.”

“Well, _three_ times a day sounds just a bit excessive to me –“

“Doesn’t matter,” Josh says. “I’ll wait for you, however long it takes for you to decide that you want to.”

“That’s rich, coming from someone who literally just dragged me out of the Great Hall to come here and fuck.”

“Funny, you weren’t really complaining about it ten minutes ago when I –“

“What if I’d been _hungry_?” Niall interrupts.

“You could always go back to the Hall and get some food if you want,” Josh smirks, shrugging a bit too innocently.

“Shut up, you know bloody well I’m going to stay here with you,” Niall knocks him on the forehead, then softens the blow with a kiss. Josh’s skin is warm and slightly salty with sweat under his lips. “You’re too fucking cuddly, that’s the problem.”

“Cuddly?” Josh snorts. “I’ve got about _nine_ percent body fat, Niall. You might as well be snuggling up to a rock.”

“Be quiet, will you.”

They lie there, lazily kissing and whiling away the rest of the lunch break. Niall doesn’t move after it’s over, remembering he’s got a free period, and with skillful persuasion he helps Josh decide that being a Prefect entitles him to getting away with skipping double Care of Magical Creatures. Eventually, numbed with a dose of potent post-orgasmic exhaustion and the genuine cosiness of lying there, he falls asleep on Josh’s chest, to the sound of his boyfriend’s heartbeat.

-

He only wakes up two hours later, and realizes with a start that he’s late for Potions. 

“ _Fuck!_ ”

Josh’s eyelids flicker open at the sound. “What’s wrong?” he mumbles, pressing his face into the pillow.

Niall scrambles out of bed, pulling his robes on. “I’m late for – _fuck_ – Potions, Snape is literally going to –“

“Niall, relax. What’s the big deal?“

“I’m not going to give him another bloody excuse to throw me off the team, Josh!”

The mention of Quidditch seems to sufficiently alarm Josh. He stares, wide-eyed at Niall. “Shit. What are you going to tell him?”

“I don’t know – um, I’ll say I was sick or something – _fuck_ ,” Niall fastens the last button on his robes, then grabs his satchel.

He doesn’t even give Josh time to kiss him goodbye, just throws the bag over his shoulder and sprints out of the dormitories, hurtles through the tunnel and starts running down the corridor as fast as he can manage towards Snape’s classroom in the dungeons. He’s breathless and panting, hard stitches digging painfully into his sides, by the time he bursts into the room.

Snape stops talking mid-sentence, and the entire class turns to look at him.

“Sorry,” Niall gasps, stumbling towards the table where Liam is sitting. “Sorry – I wasn’t feeling well –“

“Lying again, Horan?” Snape’s lip curls as he watches him collapse next to Liam.

“No, Professor,” Niall hurries to put his Potions book onto the table. “I – I was sick.”

Snape’s black eyes bore into him, depthless and cold, for a moment. “Ten points from Gryffindor for your tardiness. Have you brought me your essays?”

“Yeah,” Niall ignores Liam’s disapproving stare as he digs into the bag again for the neat scrolls of parchment and hands them to Snape. “Here.”

Snape collects the scrolls, absently placing them onto his desk before turning back to the class and resuming his explanation of the properties of Dittany. It takes a good few minutes for Niall’s heart to stop racing, but there’s an unpleasant sensation growing in his stomach at the knowledge that Snape isn’t just going to let it go.  

“Where were you?” Liam asks, eyes fixed on the open textbook in front of him.

“With Josh.”

“Mm,” Liam says, still not looking at him. “And does he know? About Zayn?”

“What? No, of course not,” Niall snaps. “Listen, if you’re just going to give me another lecture about Zayn, I’d prefer it if –“

“I’m not.” Liam purses his lips.

“Okay. Good.”

“Harry thinks he’s nice,” Liam says after a moment.

“Oh, does he?” Niall raises his eyebrows. “Did he enjoy running around with Zayn today during lunch?”

“Why, does that bother you?”

“No,” Niall huffs. “I just don’t understand why he’s so keen on spending so much time with him.”

“They’re friends now,” Liam says.

“So I’ve heard.”

“Are you jealous?”

“Of _what_?”

“They’re friends,” Liam repeats, finally turning to look at him.

“We’re friends too,” Niall snorts.

“You don’t think Zayn might like Harry more than you?”

Niall feels his face grow hot. “Why would I think that?”

“Because Harry’s nice to him.”

“ _I’m_ nice to him,” Niall says. “What are you trying to say?”

“When have you known Harry to ever sit with someone else in our lunch breaks?”

Niall squints at him. “You think Harry likes _Zayn_?”

“No, just that he’s acting a bit out of character lately, don’t you think?” Liam fiddles with the dog-eared page on his book. “All that fuss about the Dungbombs, and now he’s doing all this extra reading on _Potions_ –“

Niall shrugs. It hadn’t occurred to him that Harry’s behavior was anything to be alarmed about. “I don’t think we need to worry, to be honest. He’d tell us if there was something to tell, anyway. He’ll be fine.”

Liam looks unconvinced, but doesn’t pursue the conversation any further. They spend the next fifteen minutes in silence while Snape finally finishes his explanation of Dittany and orders them to begin brewing a Wiggenweld potion. There’s a slight flurry in the class as everyone scuttles around gathering ingredients, and only when  Liam’s dripping salamander blood into the bubbling red mixture in the cauldron that Niall speaks again.

“Josh talked to me today,” he says, powdering up lionfish spines with a pestle. “Said he wants to be exclusive now.”

Liam lets out a _hmmpph_ sound, not replying.

“I agreed,” Niall says. “I’ve told Harry as well, I’m going to stop this business with Zayn. I just need to get McGonagall on my side first.”

“Good,” Liam replies. “It’s about time.”

“Are you done being short with me now? Because it’s getting tiring, you know,” Niall tells him matter-of-factly. “How are we supposed to plan your perfect date with Cheryl if you’re being so _bloody_ uncivil to me all the time?”

Liam smiles slightly at that, giving the cauldron a delicate stir. “Shut up, will you.”

Things settle down after that, though, and the remainder of the lesson is spent laughing and conjuring up elaborate plans to get Cheryl’s attention for Liam, and even though they both know that the large majority of their schemes are too ludicrous to ever actually carry out, it’s a nice feeling to know that he’s back in Liam’s good books once again.

By the time they’re gathering up their things Niall’s mood is considerably lifted and he almost doesn’t notice when Snape slides, swift and silent, up against the door as he’s about to leave with Liam.

“A word, Horan?”

The quietly furious tone of his voice digs sharp into Niall’s short-lived sense of contentment, and he gives Liam a dismal shrug as he turns back to Snape slowly, dread creeping into his belly. “Yes, Professor?”

“I’ve looked at your essays,” Snape’s eyes look like black opals, glinting cold and depthless. “Why you choose to play this ridiculous game is beyond me, and it is truly astounding to me that time and time again you continue to treat me like an idiot.”

“Professor –“

“I’m giving you a choice right now, Horan,” Snape sounds like he’s close to snarling, lip curled back. “Tell me the truth and accept the consequences for your dishonesty, or continue trying to test my patience. And I promise you, you will not get very far doing the latter.”

Niall quails slightly, but there’s no mistaking the icy tone behind the words _accept the consequences_ – what consequences? Getting thrown off his team? “Professor Snape, I really don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

Snape’s eyes narrow at him, his face rearranging into an expression of disgust. “Very well, then,” he says quietly. “From tomorrow I will be expecting one essay from you at the end of each evening, and the topics will be delivered to you by parchment every morning. Failure to hand in work of a sufficient standard will result in disciplinary action, and you don’t want to lose your precious Quidditch team, do you?”

“One essay a _day_?” Liam yelps, but Snape silences him with a dangerous look.

Blood is pounding, hot and furious, in Niall’s ears. He’s so stunned he can barely get his stupid words out. “Professor Snape – you can’t actually–“

“I can do whatever it is I want to, if I believe it will lead me to the truth,” Snape interrupts, and his words are knife-sharp in a way that even Niall doesn’t dare to cross. “Now get out of my dungeon, I can’t even stand the sight of you.”

\--

By the time Niall finally collapses beside the stairwell, he’s almost senselessly drunk and furiously biting back on a hot surge of frustrated tears that he’s been fighting since his encounter with Snape this afternoon. He’s drenched to the bone from sitting outside in the bleachers and drinking, and now every slight whistle of wind makes his shiver almost violently.

He’s not even usually this pathetic, and somehow that makes him feel even worse, but what the fuck else is he supposed to do? All he can picture is the crestfallen crowd, all the hundreds of students that would have been counting on him, expecting him to lead the Gryffindor Quidditch team to glory – confused, looking around and realizing that he’s not even been allowed to fucking play – watching the Quidditch Cup, the one he’d worked so hard for, the one that was rightfully _his,_ go to the smug Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff captains that deserve it nowhere near as much. Just like that: the one and only thing he has ever truly cared about, ripped so cruelly out of his hands.   

“Niall?”

He looks up, his vision blurring against the distorted colours and sounds. For a panicked second, he thinks it’s a teacher, but it’s only a student, black robes trimmed in blue for Ravenclaw. After a moment he realises it’s Zayn, recognizable by that ridiculous lop-sided hat of his.

“What are you doing here?” Niall groans, turning his face the other way.

“I was on my way back from the library,” Zayn leans down, almost kneeling beside him. “What are _you_ doing _here_? Are you okay?”

“Do I look like I’m fucking okay, Zayn?” Niall snaps at him, gesturing toward himself irritably. “Just – leave me alone.”

“Niall, are you – are you drunk? Your clothes are all wet –” before Niall can protest, Zayn’s hand is on his shoulder. “Um, try and get up.”

“I don’t want to get up,” Niall grumbles, trying to fend him off, but his motor skills went out the window hours ago with his sobriety. “No – I want to _wallow_ –“

“You’ll be suspended if you get caught, Niall,” Zayn insists, struggling to pull Niall up. “If McGonagall finds out you’ve been drinking in the castle she’ll send you straight to the Headmaster!”

Some part of this seems to register as vaguely worrying in Niall’s mind, and he starts moving, dragging himself up and stumbling hard into Zayn.

“ _Oof_ – careful,” Zayn says, trying to steady Niall with both hands on his shoulders. “We can go to an empty first-floor classroom, no one will find us there.

Fifteen minutes later, Zayn has labouriously herded Niall into the unused classroom. Niall’s shivering again and there are goosebumps going up his arms by the time they get there. He doesn’t so much navigate as blunder incapably around the messy stacks of chairs, desks and dusty books. Finally, after a concerted effort on both their parts, he manages to sit himself down at the back of the class, where he can appreciate that he’ll be hidden out of view till morning.

“Oh, you must be so _cold_ ,” Zayn says suddenly, sounding alarmed. “You need something warm to wear.”

Niall’s vaguely aware of Zayn digging around his satchel for something, the items in his bag rustling as he rummages through it. It’s almost too dark in here to see anything other than the movement of his silhouette, occasionally lit up by the shifting moonlight from a small square window above them.

Finally he pulls out a jumper and hands it to Niall. “Here, wear this.”

Niall attempts to pull the jumper on, but Zayn quickly intervenes.

“No – not over your wet clothes!” he says, and it almost sounds like he’s giggling. “Wait, let me help.”

Niall sighs and gives in, letting Zayn peel his soaked robes off gently. He’s aware of how warm the other boy’s hands are for the short moments that they touch his skin, and finds himself thinking dazedly that he doesn’t really want Zayn to move his hands away. He watches, heavy-lidded, as Zayn pulls out his wand, performs a sophisticated wave and mutters “ _exaresco_ ,” so that a rush of warm hair churns out toward Niall and restores his lost body heat. Then Zayn dries Niall’s robes as well with the same charm, airing it out generously.

“Where did you learn that?”

Zayn blushes suddenly, like he’s just realized Niall’s been watching him. “Oh, I, uh, I like to practice new spells sometimes when I’m bored, just – you know, just for fun. Just to see what I can do.”

“That’s impressive, you know,” Niall says, and he means it. “You’re talented.”

Zayn’s smiling, evidently embarrassed, and there’s nothing but warmth on his face.

“Do you – would you mind staying here with me tonight, Zayn?” Niall asks after a moment, and he’s surprised that the question has even come out. He’s not horny, and he’s definitely not even thinking about his essays, but something about Zayn’s presence here in this empty classroom is kind, and _comforting_. “I don’t really think I can be alone right now.”

“Of course,” Zayn says at once, and takes a seat obediently at the desk next to Niall’s.

There’s a few minutes of quietness that follows, and Niall’s eyes are just beginning to close when he hears Zayn speak again.

“What happened to you tonight, Niall? If – if you don’t mind my asking?”

Niall lets out a low noise of annoyance as the memory of Snape’s leering face reappears.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Zayn says quickly, sounding nervous.

“No, no, it’s not that,” Niall rests his head in his arms and turns to look at Zayn. There’s a heaviness re-entering his bones as he speaks. “Snape’s still threatening to cut me off my team.”

Zayn’s nose wrinkes, and in his state, Niall almost finds it endearing. “What did he say?”

“He wants one essay a day, every day for the forseeable future,” Niall sighs painfully. “I don’t know what to do anymore, Zayn. I’m fucking exhausted. Harry doesn’t want me asking you for any more favours either –“

“Why not?”

Niall waves a hand at him, unwilling to bring that whole situation back up. “It doesn’t matter – anyway, he just insists that I can’t make you write my essays for me anymore, but I really don’t have the time to be writing one essay a _day_ for Snape, even if I could, mind you – when I _need_ to be out there training the Gryffindor team.”

“I don’t mind, you know,” Zayn says softly. “Writing your essays for you.”

There’s a kindness in his voice that makes Niall reach out to touch his hand. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Harry and Liam’s disapproving faces appear, but Niall’s too drunk and sleepy to pay any attention.

“Can – can I tell you something?” Zayn asks. “If you’re likely to forget about it by tomorrow?”

“Feel free to tell me anything, I’ve had nearly an entire bottle of Firewhiskey.”

After several moments, Zayn says, “I really like you, Niall,” and his words are quiet, steady. “I don’t think I can even explain to you how much.”

“I –“

“No, you don’t have to say anything, I don’t want you to,” Zayn interrupts. “I just – I wanted you to know that.”

Niall gazes at him, taking in whatever of the Ravenclaw he can with the limited moonlight. Zayn’s features are now softened with sleepiness, and he looks younger like this, somehow.

“Goodnight, Zayn,” he says finally, looking away with a small prick of guilt in his stomach. “And thanks, you know, for staying here with me.”

“Night, Niall,” Zayn yawns, and settles into the desk.

Sighing, Niall lets his thoughts slow down. Thankfully, sleep comes swift and deep, pulling him under within moments, as all around them the rainy winds continue to bellow around the stone walls of Hogwarts.

\--


End file.
